Mugged
by Coopereid
Summary: On his way home after a case, Spencer is ambushed and mugged. It turns out it's part of a string of crimes and the case comes across JJ's desk. What happens when Spencer just wants it to be over, but the team insists on taking the case and helping him find justice?
1. Incident

After getting off the jet, everyone started walking toward their cars, except for Spencer: he'd opted to take the subway to work before they left, and decided that he'd go home the same way. It was late at night and all anyone wanted to do was get home, so he didn't want to be a burden on any of them.

"Hey, Reid," Emily called, searching for her keys in her bag.

He turned around to face her, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Do you need a ride? You're not far out of my way, I wouldn't mind."

He shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, but you've been up for 42 straight hours. I'd much rather you go home and get some sleep."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Positive. Good night, Emily," he called to her, turning his back and walking toward the subway.

Once he was off the train, he walked up the steps and stuffed his hands in his pockets. There were much better places to be at 2:00 a.m. than walking the streets, but he'd done it several times before: he was used to it. He kept to himself inside his head, hoping he could make it home soon so he could go to bed. One of the usual street thugs called after him, but he screwed his eyes shut, ignoring them and keeping his pace. If he ignored them, they tended to leave him alone and let him keep moving. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be so lucky tonight.

He felt hands grab him and slam him into the wall. He went back into his mind, keeping his eyes shut as he took blow after blow. They'd managed to get him on the ground and one of them started kicking him while another went through his bag. He felt every kick and every fist making contact with his skin, and curled up tighter. All he could think was that they could take whatever they wanted from him so long as it ended.

He whimpered to himself, reaching his hand down for his gun. He knew he was off-duty, but would take whatever trouble he was going to get into if it meant they were going to stop. He winced, holding back tears as he finally got a grip on it, holding it in the air, turning off the safety, and firing. This seemed to startle them and they took what they wanted from him before running away. He set the gun down on the pavement, a small feeling of pride and victory running through him, which was quickly replaced by overwhelming pain.

The first thing that came to mind was the fact that he had to get up. He had to get home and get some sleep: he had work in the morning and couldn't let his team down. He shook his head slightly, curling into a ball on the pavement and whimpering, crying softly. He couldn't get up or move a single muscle in his body without pain shooting through him. Instead he stayed there, hoping that somebody had heard them, or at least heard his gunshot.

* * *

A while later he heard sirens, and prayed that they were coming for him. When they came closer and seemed to stop, he curled up and started crying again, relieved. There were footsteps approaching and he heard a stretcher being rolled over. A hand touched his shoulder and he flinched, whimpering.

"Sir, can you tell me your name?"

He sighed, nodding slightly and mumbling. "S-Spencer."

"Can you tell me what happened, Spencer?" one of the EMTs asked as the other set a backboard down beside him.

He shook his head and immediately regretted it, pain shooting everywhere in his body.

"Don't worry, Spencer. My name's John, I'm an EMT, and I'm going to take care of you."

He kept his eyes shut but gave him a slight nod. After assessing his injuries, he felt a neck brace being put on him. Soon after, they rolled him back and he felt a backboard beneath him. The sound of Velcro rang in his ears as they strapped him down and lifted him, putting him on the stretcher. He couldn't describe the feeling of overwhelming relief as they put him into the back of the ambulance.

"Spencer, there's a gun, is it yours?" the other asked.

"Mhm," he said softly, practically a whisper. "'m an agent."

He felt a thumb against his forehead and whimpered, knowing that a bright light was coming. The thumb was soon joined by a pointer finger, holding his eye open and shining a light. "Spencer, can you stay awake?"

He gave another nod as he heard the doors slam shut.

The sound of the siren came on as the ambulance drove away and he winced. "How bad?" he mumbled.

He heard a sigh, and knew it couldn't be good. "You're lucky, Spencer. They could've done a lot worse."

He couldn't help but laugh slightly. That had to be the Spencer Reid motto – could've done/been a lot worse.

"No narcotics," he said, wincing and taking a deep breath.

"Excuse me?"

He whimpered, wincing. "No narcotic medications, please," he whispered, before slipping into some much needed sleep.

The next thing Spencer knew, he was in a room in the hospital, waking up. His eyes were swollen, but he managed to open them. The lights in the room were dimmed and as far as he could tell, he was alone. He sat up, whimpering, still feeling pain in several places in his body.

"Spencer?" he heard a soft voice ask. He looked over and saw a female doctor standing beside his bed in.

He nodded slightly, taking a deep breath and sighing.

"How are you feeling?"

He gave a shrug and winced, regretting it.

"We've contacted your emergency contact. You can be discharged in a few hours."

He licked his lips, biting his bottom one. "What happened?"

She sighed. "It seems you were mugged near the subway. Your bag was found empty, your badge was missing, but your gun was right beside you." He thought to himself how she would have known he was in the FBI, but then realized she had access to his records. "You have a few fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder, broken nose, split lip, your eyes are swollen, a slight concussion, and you needed several stitches in your forehead. You might not want to put too much weight on your left leg for a few days, and you have an injured right wrist. Trust me, I've seen a lot worse."

He exhaled. "The shoulder should be kept in a sling, unless you say otherwise. And the ribs, I should put ice on, get rest, take pain medications, and for the healing process, take a deep breath at least once an hour."

"Not your first time?"

He shook his head slightly. "You said you contacted someone?"

She nodded. "I personally called him a half hour ago, he said he'd be on his way as soon as he found a babysitter."

He sighed to himself, feeling slightly guilty that he'd not only woken up Hotch, but needed to take away from his time with Jack. He leaned back against the pillows, feeling every muscle ache. "No narcotics?"

She shook her head. "As stated in your file."

He mumbled a quick thank you before taking a painful deep breath, falling asleep.

* * *

He was woken up by the sound of footsteps coming into his room. He sighed, not wanting to face his superior, but willed himself to open his eyes and look at him.

"Hey, Hotch," he whispered, wincing slightly.

Hotch shook his head. "Not the time to be casual, Reid."

He gave a quick sorry before sitting up on the bed, biting down on his lip.

"Did you see who did this to you?"

He swallowed, shaking his head. "Not tonight, but um… I've seen them before, every time I walk back from the subway station. They usually taunt whoever walks by, but nothing ever happened that I saw. I thought they were harmless."

"Could you describe them to a sketch artist?"

He nodded slightly. "Just… just not now. I'm tired." He ran a hand over his face, wincing. "Tomorrow?" he asked pleadingly.

Hotch knew the best time would be now since it was fresh on his mind, but didn't want to press the issue. Instead he agreed. "I'll stop by your place on the way in with an officer and a sketch artist."

He took a deep breath, whimpering. "Thank you. Can I go home?"

"I'll fill out your discharge forms and give you a ride." He patted his good shoulder softly before walking out.

In the time Hotch was gone, Spencer tried getting out of the bed, but it was a losing fight. He groaned internally, leaning back and waiting for him to come back to the room. Hotch walked back in, setting his go-bag at the foot of Spencer's bed. He raised an eyebrow, looking up at him.

"None of your things have been recovered, and I doubt you want to leave the hospital in that gown."

He shook his head as Hotch went through his own bag, taking out a pair of sweatpants and a zip-up sweatshirt. He set them down on the bed, looking up at him. "Do you want me to get a nurse to help you into these?"

He thought about it and quickly nodded, thinking about how painful it was just to sit up.

After a nurse helped him get dressed, he limped out of the room, walking over to Hotch. No matter how many times it happened, he would never get used to seeing the youngest member of his team hurt. Hotch wrapped an arm around his waist carefully, walking him outside.

"Do you want to lie down in the backseat, or-"

"Front seat's fine," he mumbled, and Hotch opened the door, helping him in.

The ride to Spencer's apartment was quiet until Hotch parked in front of the building. Before Spencer could protest, he got out, walking around and helping Spencer out of the car. Hotch took a key out of his pocket as he helped Spencer up the stairs.

"How-"

"I called your super before going to the hospital," he explained. "What floor are you on?"

Spencer winced just thinking about it. "4th."

He wrapped an arm around Spencer's waist wordlessly, guiding him up the stairs.

"Hotch, it's fine, I can get into my apartment-"

"Reid, for once in your life, shut up."

If he had the energy, he'd have come up with a witty response, but he said nothing. He continued to limp up the stairs until they made it to his apartment. Hotch reached over, unlocking the door and helping Spencer inside.

"Couch or bed?"

"Bed, please," he said, remembering how hard the hospital bed was and wanting to be comfortable. "Down the hall, last room."

Hotch nodded, walking him to the bedroom and helping him up on the bed. Spencer laid back and Hotch grabbed the blankets at the foot of the bed, pulling them over him.

Spencer took a deep breath, wincing. "They took my credentials, Hotch."

"You can get new ones." He walked to the bathroom and came back with a glass of water and a few Tylenol pills. Spencer sat up, popping the pills into his mouth and drinking the entire glass.

He bit down on his lip. "Why is it always me?"

Hotch sighed, looking over at his agent who he always felt obligated to protect, feeling like he'd failed him. "I wish I had an answer for you, Reid. I really do."

Spencer laid back again. "…Thank you," he said quietly. "You didn't have to come to the hospital-"

"You're part of my team and, therefore, my family, Spencer. Anytime there's something wrong, I'll be there for you. Now get some sleep."

He smiled appreciatively. "And Hotch?"

Hotch turned to face him. "Yeah?"

He chewed on his lip. "Please don't tell the team. I don't want them to worry about me."

"Reid, you're going to need to take a few days, they're going to know something's wrong-"

"Please," he repeated, looking up at him. "At least until I've healed up. I know you're going to say to take a few days-"

"The rest of the week-"

He winced at the thought, but continued, "-and they have enough to worry about. Just… give me a few days."

He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed. "Get some sleep, Reid. I'll be by in the morning to check on you."

He nodded slightly, resting his head against the pillow and drifting off. When Hotch saw him finally fall asleep, he sighed, turning around and walking to the door. He couldn't help but take it personally when somebody hurt a member of his family, and hoped that he'd be able to get enough information from Spencer to catch them.

* * *

The next morning, Spencer woke up to somebody knocking on his door. He whimpered, looking over at the clock and seeing that it was 8:30: he needed to get up and get ready for work. He quickly pushed himself off the bed and winced, remembering everything that had happened just hours ago. Limping over to the front door, he opened it, greeted by two police officers and his boss. Sighing, he pulled the door open, limping over to the couch and sitting down.

Hotch walked in, the officers following. He took the seat beside the couch and looked at Spencer. "How are you feeling today, Reid?"

"I've had better days," he mumbled, resisting the urge to rub his eyes to wake himself up.

"Can you tell me what happened last night?"

He sighed, knowing this wasn't for him, and instead was for the police officers so they could find who did this to him. He nodded, chewing on his lip. "I'm an idiot and I refused a ride home from my co-workers, choosing to take the subway instead. I walked out of the station and heard taunts and jeers, but you get used to that walking down the street that late at night, or should I say early in the morning." He swallowed, screwing his eyes shut. "They grabbed me, shoved me into a wall, beat me, threw me into the ground so hard my shoulder dislocated, and they were relentless. I-I did the only thing I could think of and reached for my gun. I shot it into the air and they took off. All I remember after that was getting into the ambulance and waking up at the hospital. They stole whatever was in my bag, as well as my credentials."

"Did they photograph your injuries at the hospital?"

He nodded slightly. "And I'm sure they have a full copy of the injury report ready. They could probably explain my injuries better than I could at this moment." He cleared his throat. "Excuse me, I just need to get something for the pain-"

"I've got it," Hotch said, putting up a hand and walking out.

Spencer sighed, biting down on his lip until Hotch came back. He took the pills, swallowing them and glancing over at the officers. "Sorry about that. Next question."

"Was there any sexual assault?"

He winced, but shook his head. "I shot before anything could happen."

They saw Spencer was uncomfortable and moved on. "Your boss says you've seen these men before?"

"Mhm. They're always around that station late at night. I see them every time." He bit down on his lip. "I never had a good feeling around them, but with my job, it feels like anyone is a potential danger."

"Understandable." One of the officers moved closer. "Can you describe your attackers?"

He was dreading this moment, but gave him a nod, closing his eyes. "There were three of them, and I can give a basic physical description for each one. The first is white, mid 20's to mid 30's, just under 6 feet, and brown hair. The second is Hispanic, probably mid 30's and 6'2", and bald. The third is darker-skinned, though I'm not sure his ethnicity. He's definitely the leader of the group and starts the taunts. Mid 30's, between 6'2" and 6'4".

The officer finished the descriptions and started rough sketches. Once he was done, he held them out to Spencer, who opened his eyes and nodded.

"Thank you, Agent. We'll get back to you if we catch them."

He sighed, nodding again. The officers quickly talked to Hotch, about what Spencer couldn't hear, and left.

Hotch turned to face him. "Reid, if you need to talk-"

He quickly shook his head. "I just, I need to get some sleep. A few hours definitely wasn't what my body needed."

"Should I put on some coffee or get you something?"

"I'm fine," he lied, running a hand through his hair. "I just need some sleep."

Hotch sighed. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." He pushed himself off the couch, wincing. "Not a word to the team," he reminded him.

"I won't say anything. When they ask why you're out-"

"I needed a few personal days to check on my mother," he finished, looking up at his superior.

"If you need anything, just give me a call."

"I'll try not to, but thank you. Now, do you mind?"

He shook his head, picking up his keys off the table. "Get some rest."

"I will."

He waited for Hotch to leave and limped over to the door, setting both locks and double-checking that they were secure. He went to his room, unlocking the drawer beside his bed, checking that his gun was in there if anyone dared to break into his apartment. Once he was sure he felt safe, he changed into a pair of pajamas, lying back on the bed. He reached over to his cell phone, putting it on silent. If one of his co-workers were to check on him, he could get back to them later, after he's slept.

* * *

Hotch checked the clock before walking inside and saw that he was running late. Hoping that it could go undetected, he went straight to his office and sat at his desk.

Emily raised an eyebrow. "Is he ever late?"

Derek shook his head. "Not that I remember. Do you think something's up?"

"Not sure," she said, sitting up straight in her seat. "He could just be lagging after not getting sleep until 3:00 a.m. last night. I know I'm feeling it."

Derek smiled, nodding in agreement. "Here's hoping it's not another case we have to look at."

Hotch reached over to his phone, dialing JJ's number.

She answered. "Hotch?"

"JJ, who's your contact for the D.C. police?"

She thought to herself for a second. "Victor Barnes, wh-" before she got a response, he hung up and looked up the number, dialing.

"Victor Barnes."

"This is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner from the Behavioral Analysis Unit, I need to speak with your chief of police immediately."

Without another word, he was connected.

"Yes, this is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, I spoke to a few of your officers this morning about one of my agents-"

"Spencer Reid?"

He leaned back in his chair. "Yes. I need to know what actions are going to be taken."

"We think there might be a connection to several muggings that have occurred in the D.C. area over the last month, two involving sexual assault. The fact that they've now attacked a federal agent-"

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You want my team on the case." It was a statement, not a question.

"I understand it's personal for you, but your team is our best chance to find them. The files are on their way to your media liaison as we speak."

He knew there was nothing he could say to change the situation, so he just nodded. "If she accepts the case, I should be seeing you shortly."

* * *

Derek looked over at Spencer's empty desk. "Is Pretty Boy going to grace us with his presence today?"

She shrugged, checking her watch. "Damn, it's 10:30 and he's still not in? What, did he oversleep?"

"I don't think the kid was born with the ability to oversleep. Like clockwork, he's probably up at 8:00 a.m. every day."

"Well, tell that to the empty desk sitting in front of me."

Derek saw Garcia walking over to the break room. "Good morning, Baby Girl."

She smirked. "I'll show you a good morning, hot stuff." She walked over, leaning against his desk. "What's up?"

He pointed over to Spencer's desk. "Any idea where Pretty Boy is today?"

She frowned, shaking her head. "Nothing came in on the sick line today from him. One of you gave him a ride home last night, right?"

"I tried," Emily started, "but he said he could take the subway."

Hotch looked out and saw the team wondering about their missing co-worker. He walked out of his office, leaning against the railing. "Get to work."

Garcia looked up at him. "Before I do, just a quick question. Do you know where Reid is today, sir? He didn't put in for any vacation time, and he didn't call in sick-"

"Reid's going to be out for a few days, checking on his mother in Vegas. Now everyone, get back to work."

Emily quickly grabbed the folder she'd been working on, reading it.

* * *

The next day, JJ groaned, setting down what felt like her thousandth case file that morning. She took a quick sip of her coffee, setting it down and picking up a new file from the top of her pile. She flipped it open, taking in the information: eight mysterious muggings in the D.C. area over the past month, two involving sexual assault, the latest taking place two nights prior. She internally winced, looking at the photos from the crime scenes, as well as the injuries on the victims. There were several broken bones, bruises, and other injuries scattered across their bodies.

She looked at the newest photos and saw a male victim with several injuries, including his eyes being swollen shut, a broken nose, stitches, a split lip, a dislocated shoulder, and fractured ribs. He'd been able to give vague physical descriptions of the unsubs, which would definitely make their jobs easier. She turned back to the photos and studied the picture of the eyes, noticing something familiar about them. It took her a few minutes, but she realized that she knew those eyes: she'd been looking at their owner for years.

Shaking her head, she read the file again and got up, closing the folder and walking to Hotch's office, closing the door behind her.

"Hotch, we have a serious problem."

He put a finger up. "I'll have to call you back." He hung up, glancing up at JJ. "What is it?"

She chewed on her lip, setting down the case file on his desk. "There's been a series of muggings in the D.C. area over the past month. Two victims were sexually assaulted, the rest seriously injured. No deaths yet, but part of the case file stuck out to me."

He tried his best to look as if this was new to him and raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She sighed. "It became federal the second they attacked an agent."

"JJ-"

She exhaled. "They got Reid. Those pictures – he's _really_ hurt, and I'm willing to bet this is why none of us have seen him in two days. Hotch, we have to take this case."

"You do understand you have a serious bias-"

"I also understand that Spencer Reid is the last person on the face of this planet who deserves this, because all he does is worry about everybody else," she started, lowering her voice. "We have to do this for him. We have to find who did this and put them away so he can feel safe."

He looked up at her. "So you want to present this case to the team?"

She nodded. "Absolutely."

He didn't want to, but he reluctantly agreed. "Call the meeting."


	2. Discovery

Hotch walked into the conference room. "Let's get started."

JJ sighed, picking up the remote. "Eight brutal muggings in the D.C. area over the past month. Two of the victims were also sexually assaulted. Every victim was found without any of their personal possessions, except their ID."

"That's a change - could be a sign of remorse?" Rossi suggested.

She swallowed, pressing a button on the remote. "Each victim is severely beaten with several injuries, including dislocated shoulders, fractured ribs, and facial injuries. The third victim needed reconstructive surgery due to the severity of the damage."

"These are just muggings, what makes the case federal?" Derek asked.

She eyed Hotch, who nodded. "Not only were there two sexual assaults, but the latest attack was on a federal agent."

Emily raised an eyebrow. "Anybody we know?"

She sat down in her chair, visibly wincing before bringing up the images.

Garcia's breath hitched in her throat. "No…"

Biting down on her lip, she sighed. "He was found on a street corner a few nights ago around 2:00 a.m. He fired a warning shot to get them to stop, and it scared them off. They took off with everything in his bag and his credentials. I told the police chief we'd take the case without letting the bias affect the outcome."

"But it's Reid!"

"I know. But because of him, we have a physical description on all three unsubs." She held the file out to Garcia, "and we can have our resident tech genius look through the system and try to find them."

She pouted, but gave her a nod, opening the file and taking the photos out, handing them to JJ. "I refuse to see him like that," she explained, picking up her bag, "but I'll get on it," she finished, walking out and going to her lair.

Derek froze before turning to Hotch. "I thought you said he was going to see his mother for a few days?"

"I understand if any of you are upset, but I had to give Reid my word I wouldn't tell any of you what happened. I got the call from the hospital early yesterday morning and went to check on him. It's hard for him to function on his own, but he's taking time to himself to heal up and adjust. Now, let me just make one thing clear. He doesn't want anyone to feel bad about what happened," he started, eyeing Emily, "or pity him. Now that we're on this case? I don't want any of you bothering him for anything. Have I made myself clear?"

They all nodded in agreement and looked through the case file.

* * *

JJ sighed, looking at the clock. "I promised Will I'd pick up Henry at daycare today. He's working and can't get off to drop him off at the babysitter-"

"Say no more. Go drop him off and be back in an hour," Hotch said, putting pictures up on the evidence board.

She nodded, getting up and setting the case file on the table before walking to her office, pulling on her jacket.

She felt slightly guilty lying to Hotch, but she needed to visit Spencer to check on him. Ever since the time they separated before the Hankel case, she felt obligated to watch over him and protect him whenever she could. Pulling up to the apartment building, she got out and walked up the stairs, stopping in front of his door and knocking.

Spencer whimpered, sitting up on the couch. He had fallen asleep watching one of the Star Wars movies, and had several nightmares involving what had happened to him. He bit down on his lip after he shifted off the couch and limped over to the door. Hotch had said when he'd come to visit, he would call first, so he wondered who could possibly be at the door. He looked through the peephole and saw JJ standing there, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. He groaned to himself, wondering if Hotch had betrayed him.

"Spence, I know you're in there. It's JJ, open up," she said, knocking again.

He bit his lip, unlocking both locks and taking a deep breath, wincing before opening the door.

She gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. "Spence…"

"It's not as bad as it looks," he explained.

She looked at him sympathetically. "Can I come in?"

"It's… it's not really a good time," he started, leaning against the wall.

"Please?"

He bit his lip, pushing the door open and limping over to the couch.

She walked in, closing the door behind her.

"Can you lock it?"

She nodded, setting both locks and pulling on the door, making sure they worked. She then turned back to Spencer and walked over, sitting beside him. He instinctively shifted away from her and she sighed. "Oh, Spence."

He shook his head. "Please don't," he whispered, pulling the blanket over himself. "It's nothing."

She sighed. "We got the case, Spence. I know what happened."

He looked up at her. "Does the team know?"

"Yeah, the case came across my desk, and I recognized your face on the images. I read the file and… you could've told us."

"I couldn't. Emily would've felt guilty for not arguing to give me a ride, Morgan would get pissed off and try to find these guys on his own, Garcia would do nothing but pity me, and Rossi would probably use his mob connections to make something happen to them once they are found. Then there's you, who's here to check up on me when I quite obviously just need to be alone."

"What you need right now isn't being alone. You need your family to lean on, and we want to help."

"There's nothing that could be done. All I need to get over my injuries is time for the wounds to heal." He adjusted the sling on his shoulder, wincing. "If I need anyone or anything, I'll reach out to you, but for now, I just need to be left alone to get over this."

"Have you taken anything?" she asked, changing the subject.

"I haven't taken a Tylenol in a few hours-"

She got up, walking to his bedroom and grabbing the bottle, going back to the couch and handing it to him."Anything else?"

"JJ, I'm fin-"

"Anything else?" she repeated.

He sighed. "I haven't been able to make coffee the last couple of days, I could go for a cup-"

"Say no more." She got off the couch, walking to his kitchen. She came back a few minutes later with a cup of coffee. "Four sugars?"

He nodded slightly, taking the cup from her and sipping it. It wasn't quite how he liked it, but he was grateful that she helped. "So you know everything?" he asked, setting the cup down on the table.

"Stitches on the forehead, two swollen eyes, broken nose, split lip, fractured ribs, dislocated shoulder, concussion, and hurt the same wrist on the side with the dislocated shoulder."

He winced, thinking of every injury, remembering the pain of it and running a hand through his hair. "Yeah."

She reached over, patting his arm. She couldn't help but feel upset when he backed away from her touch. "I know you want to do this alone, but we're a family, Spence. We worry about you and we want to take care of you. We want you to be better so we can have you back."

He swallowed, nodding. "I know. If you guys have any questions, feel free to stop by."

She got up off the couch. "And if we don't have any questions?"

"Hm?"

She smiled slightly. "And if we don't have any questions, can we still stop by?"

He thought about it and sighed. "Yeah. Just promise me something?"

"Anything."

He bit down on his lip, chewing on it. "I need you to promise me the same thing you promised Garcia when she was hurt. Don't look at me like a victim. I'm still the same Spencer, I'm just injured."

She considered it and nodded. "I promise. I have to get back to the office. Should I spread the message?"

"Please."

She leaned over, kissing his cheek. She then walked over to the door, unlocking it and walking out. He got up, locking the door behind her and sitting back on the couch. He didn't want any of the team to find out about him, but now that it was a federal case, they were going to know everything, and he wasn't sure he was ready for that invasion of his privacy.

* * *

Spencer was slowly depleting his supply of ice, making ice packs every few hours to put on his swollen and otherwise injured body parts. He laid back on his couch with them strategically placed over his eyes, ribs, and knee. He attempted to watch TV while doing so, but it only gave him a headache, so he sat in the silence and hoped the Tylenol would kick in so he could get some sleep.

JJ walked back into the conference room, sitting down. "Anything yet?"

Derek shook his head. "Garcia's still running everything through her software, hoping we can get a match on any of Reid's descriptions."

She looked around the room. "Where's everybody else?"

"They went to interview the other victims," he explained, reading through the case file.

"Good, maybe I can go talk to Spence-"

He shook his head. "We already tried that one. Hotch won't let any of us talk to him."

"Then he's going to be _really_ pissed off at me."

He looked up at her. "You went to see him?"

She sighed, nodding. "Will's off today because Henry was running a fever this morning. I had to see him, Derek. Please don't tell Hotch."

"How is he?"

She bit down on her lip. "The pictures are _nothing_ in comparison to the real thing. He's limping, he's bruised everywhere, his eyes are nearly swollen shut, he can't do anything for himself… God, Derek, he can't even leave his apartment."

"What makes you say that?"

"There are takeout boxes in the trash: it's obvious he's been ordering in the last couple days. He can barely walk a few feet without being in pain, and he triple checks the locks on the door before he relaxes enough to hold a conversation. I've never seen him this scared, not even with Hankel."

He leaned back in his seat, running a hand over his scalp. "I can't wait to find these sons of bitches so I can inflict some of the pain they made him feel."

"I can't say I'd stop you," she said honestly. "He made me promise him something."

He looked at her, eyebrow raised. "Oh?"

She took a deep breath, sighing. "I had to promise him we wouldn't look at him or treat him like a victim. He still has to be Spencer."

"How are we supposed to do that when he's presented to us as a victim?"

She shrugged slightly. "If we talk to him, we have to talk _to_ him, not _at_ him. And we need to be there for him without smothering him. He said he'd call if he needs anything. I'm hoping he stays true to that."

* * *

Garcia walked in a while later, laptop in hand.

"What do you have, Baby Girl?"

She groaned, frustrated. "Not enough. I'm not sure Reid's description was accurate, because I put in the exact descriptions, and it gave me over 300 names to match the 3 people."

Derek sighed. "That can't be right."

She turned the screen toward him. "361 to be exact."

He looked over at JJ. "You know what we have to do."

She shook her head. "No, absolutely not. I'm not doing it. I'm a media liaison, and I'm out of this." She packed up her files. "I need to get a press conference ready, and I need to do anything else."

"JJ, he needs to talk about it-"

"I'm not bringing it up to him and I don't want you to, either. He's scared enough. We don't need to add to it by telling him 'Hey, Spence, by the way? Your description sucks. Please relive one of the worst moments of your entire life.' I can't believe that _you_ want to do that to him."

"I want to find the bastards that did this so they can get what they deserve. If that means putting him through a cognitive interview-"

She put up her hands. "Then it's on your hands, not mine. And you're checking with Hotch first, because I'm not having you do this behind his back." She picked up the folders, walking to her office and closing the door.

Derek groaned, running his hands over his face.

"She's just protective over him, sweetie. We all are, and we're all going to be on edge this whole case, but we need to stay focused," Garcia started, rubbing his shoulder.

He bit down on his lip, nodding. He took out his phone, calling Hotch.

"Morgan, do you have anything?"

He sighed. "Nothing yet. Listen, Hotch, Garcia put the descriptions he gave into ViCAP, and we got over 300 results. There has to be something else he's not telling us that can help us narrow this down, and we need to find out before somebody else gets hurt. The first and the fifth victims were sexually assaulted. If I'm right, the next victim will be too. We need a better description from him."

Hotch thought for a minute and sighed. "You want to give him a cognitive interview."

"It's the only way to get a better description. If we just ask him outright, he might freeze up and give the wrong information, just for it to be over with. None of the other victims ever saw their faces. He did."

He paused and finally gave in. "Do you have his address?"

"I can get it from Garcia."

"Then you have my permission. Morgan?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful. Remember that right now, he isn't your co-worker. He's your job."

He took a deep breath, sighing. "Okay."

"Let me know how he's doing."

"I will."

He hung up, turning to Garcia, who held out a piece of paper with his address.

"Let him know we care."

"No problem." He pulled on his jacket and stuffed his phone into his pocket.

"And that we're here for him and that he doesn't need to be scared, because they didn't just attack him. They attacked all of us."

He nodded in agreement, leaning over and kissing her cheek.

"And Derek?" she called after him.

He turned around to face her. "Yeah?"

"Tell him I love him, and I want my Boy Wonder back soon?"

He smiled slightly, nodding and grabbing his keys off his desk before walking to the elevator.


	3. Cognitive Interview

Spencer heard his phone ringing and whimpered at the thought of having to reach for it. He sat up, wincing, and grabbed his phone, checking the caller ID. He was slightly surprised to see that it wasn't Hotch or JJ, but it was Derek. Hesitantly, he answered it.

"…Hello?"

"Hey, Reid. It's Derek."

"I figured. The caller ID gave it away."

He laughed softly. "I guess so. Listen, I'm on my way over there to talk to you. Do you need anything?"

"…Why are you coming here?"

He sighed, buckling himself in. "We couldn't get an exact match in ViCAP, and we think the best option is a cognitive interview."

He shuddered just thinking about it. "Derek, please. I will beg you if I have to. Don't make me do this."

"I'm sorry, Spencer, but if we have any shot of catching them, we need to do this. You're the only person who saw these guys."

"But I didn't!" he quickly argued. "They got me from behind and I closed my eyes before they even threw the first punch. I didn't see anything until the EMT tapped me on the shoulder to let me know I was still alive."

Derek sighed. "But you've seen them. You've told me about them before, and I think with the right questions, you'll be able to remember whatever it is you're repressing about their appearances so we can find them and put them away."

He sniffed, wincing. "Just you?"

"It's just me. Everyone else is talking to victims or in the conference room. I won't report anything back to them you don't want, and I'll keep anything not pertaining to this case between us. I promise."

He bit down on his lip. "No making me the victim."

"I won't. Do you want me to grab anything for you? Some lunch, groceries, anything?"

"I don't want to bother you."

"It's not a bother if I'm offering."

He thought to himself. "I'm running low on ice for my ice packs, so I could use a few bags. And I guess I wouldn't say no to some lunch?"

"No problem. I should be there in a half hour."

"See you then." He hung up quickly, exhaling, trying to mentally prepare himself for what was ahead.

* * *

When there was a knock on the door a while later, he jumped slightly, contemplating grabbing his gun from his bedroom.

He knocked again. "Spencer, it's Derek."

He sighed, pushing himself off the couch and limping over to the door. He checked the peephole to be sure Derek was alone before unlocking the door, pulling it open.

Derek stepped in. "Freezer?"

Spencer pointed to the kitchen, closing the door and locking it. He then walked back over to the couch, sitting down and pulling the blanket over himself.

"Do you need an ice pack?"

He bit down on his lip. "Two, please."

Derek filled them up, closing them and walking back to the living room, handing to them to Spencer. He quickly thanked him, putting one against his side and the other on his left eye.

"Thank you," Spencer said, looking up at him.

He raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"Not making me feel like I'm a victim the second you saw me. JJ did it. Hotch even did it." He bit down on his lip. "Hotch walked into the hospital room and gave me this look of complete _pity_, something I've never seen from him before. I respect him, but I hated it. Not to mention JJ had to take care of me the second she saw me. I appreciate someone treating me like a human."

"Anytime, Pretty Boy."

Spencer smiled slightly with a soft chuckle. "How about we stick with 'kid' or 'genius' for now?"

"For the look you just got on your face with 'Pretty Boy'? Hell no."

Spencer shrugged, wincing and rubbing his shoulder.

"I stuck some Indian food in your fridge, from that little place with the chicken tandoori you're always talking about."

"Thank you. How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it."

Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, biting his lip. "You wanted to do a cognitive interview?"

"I think it's the best way to get the information from you. Like I said, nothing you say that doesn't involve this case leaves this conversation."

He nodded, sighing. "The sooner this is over and I can feel safe again, the better."

Derek sat up straight. "Close your eyes."

He let his eyes slip shut, taking a deep breath and wincing.

"It's late, you leave the airstrip and go to the subway. You take the train and walk up the stairs of the station by your house. What do you see?"

He chewed on his lip. "Nothing. Nobody else is on the streets this late. All I see is the little light the street lights are giving off."

"Do you hear anything?"

"I… I hear yelling, like I usually do. Typical taunts and threats from behind me. Nothing that makes me stop. I just want to get home and get some sleep before work in the morning."

Derek smirked slightly, shaking his head. "What happens next?"

He swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut painfully. "A set of hands grabs my shoulders and slams me into a wall, and another starts punching me. I close my eyes and push the pain away."

"Does it work?"

He quickly shook his head. "Derek, I don't want to be here right now," he said softly, his voice cracking.

"Okay, let's try something else." He thinks and shifts his position. "It's a night after getting out of work, just a regular day. You get off the same station and you walk home. Are they there?"

He nodded. "They're on a porch, watching me walk by."

"Do you look at them?"

He sniffed, nodding. "Very quickly. With the job, it's in our nature to take in our surroundings and look at anybody we see as a possible threat."

"Good, you're doing great." He reached a hand over, rubbing Spencer's arm. He quickly flinched, pulling away. "I'm sorry, Spencer-"

He shook his head subtly. "Continue."

Derek sighed. "You looked over at them, you saw their faces. You studied them. I need to know anything that you left out of the original profile. The first guy, you said he was white, below 6 feet, and mid 20's to mid 30's with brown hair. Is there anything else that sticks out?"

"He… he has a scar on his left eyebrow, looks like from a bar fight or something, definitely from a piece of glass. And… he has a tattoo on his right arm." He squeezes his eyes shut, biting down on his lip. "I can't tell what it is, but it's taking up most of his arm."

"Like a sleeve?"

A quick nod told Derek he was going in the right direction. He wrote down the description and looked back at the case file. "There's three of them. One of them was Hispanic, mid 30's and above 6 feet. He had no hair, and-"

"Tattoos," Spencer said quickly.

"What about them?"

"Left bicep and right wrist. I can't make them out, but they're small in comparison to the first guy's."

"What else?"

"He… his ears, they're pierced, but bigger, maybe like a gauge?"

Derek wrote this down and looked back at Spencer. "We're almost done, you're doing great." He was greeted by silence and sighed. "Finally, the third guy, you said he was probably the leader of the group. He's darker-skinned, mid 30's, in the lower range of 6 feet. You said he was bald, but is there anything else-"

"Several tattoos… one of them matches ones that the other two have. It's… it's a cross of some sort. I can't make out the details or the writing, but it's definitely a cross. And he has another one on the side of his head. A tribal symbol."

"Is there anything else about this guy that stuck out? Tattoos are great to identify, but every little bit is going to help, kid."

Spencer swallowed, nodding. "He has a limp, I'm not sure from what."

Relieved, Derek finished the descriptions. "You did a great job, Pretty Boy."

Spencer sniffed, taking a deep breath. "I need this to be over, Derek. Please. Find them."

He saw tears rimming his co-workers eyes and felt his heart break for the younger man. He held out his arms for him, and surprisingly, Spencer moved closer, resting his head on Derek's shoulder. He took a few hesitant breaths before doing what he needed more than anything: crying his heart out. Derek sighed, wrapping his arms around him and rubbing his back cautiously. "I promise you, Spencer, I'm going to find them and we're going to put them away."

"The… the odds of that ha-happening-"

Derek shook his head. "I don't need statistics right now. I need you to push that aside and just have faith in this team. They attacked all of us the second they laid a hand on you, and none of us are going to rest easy until you feel safe again." Spencer continued to cry on his shoulder and Derek just rubbed his back, waiting for him to let it all out.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pulling away and pulling the blanket over himself.

"It's obvious you needed that. Don't apologize."

He nodded slightly, putting the ice pack back on his eye, wincing.

"When's the last time you took something for the pain?"

Spencer looked over at the clock, sighing. "Seven hours."

"Do you want to get it yourself, or-"

"Could you, please? It's in my bedroom, right on my nightstand."

He got off the couch, patting Spencer's good knee before walking back to the bedroom. He came back a minute later with a glass of water and held out the pills to him. He popped them in his mouth, swallowing. "Thank you."

"No problem."

* * *

Before Derek left, Spencer bit down on his lip. "Derek?"

He turned around. "Yeah, Pretty Boy?"

"I… I know I'm not technically working this case, but can you please keep me updated on it so I can sleep at night?"

He shook his head. "Hotch isn't going to like it-"

"I know, and I'm sorry-"

"-And I don't give a single damn. I'll call you tonight if we find anything based on your descriptions."

He sighed, relieved. "Thank you."

He gave him a nod. "Take care of yourself."

"I will," he said, lying on his injured side. "There's a spare key under the mat. I never grabbed it… could you lock the door on the way out and take it with you? The team is more than welcome to stop by… you just need to call first."

"Consider it done. And kid? Garcia misses her Boy Wonder."

He looked somewhat satisfied and pulled the blanket over himself, reaching over and turning off the lamp.

Derek walked out, closing the door, grabbing the spare key, and locking it. He took his phone out of his pocket, dialing Hotch's number.

"Morgan, did you get anything?"

He started walking down the stairs. "Definitely. I think we're a hell of a lot closer to catching these bastards. We definitely have enough for Garcia to get us some results."

"Get back here as quickly as you can."

"I will."

"And Derek?"

He paused while taking out his car keys. "Yeah?"

"Great job."

* * *

Shortly after getting into work the next day, everyone gathered in the BAU room. Garcia quickly turned to Derek. "How is he?"

He stirred the sugar into his coffee, shrugging. "He's better than I thought he'd be, but I walked in expecting the worst."

"Did you tell him we miss him?"

He smiled slightly. "I made it known that we were there for him."

"Did anything pop up from his descriptions, PG?" Emily asked, hoping to change the subject.

"I'm glad you asked." She opened her laptop, turning it toward everyone. "Thanks to Derek, we got _much_ better descriptions of these asshats, and one in particular showed up in our system." She clicked the mouse on one of her windows. "Everyone, say hello to dirtball number one, Anthony Lewis. The scar on his eyebrow that Boy Wonder described? From a bar fight last year that he started. Six stitches and a few nights in jail."

JJ's eyes shot over to her. "Where is he now?"

"He's on a work release, so if he wants to stay out of jail, he's currently picking up trash on the side of Interstate 66."

Hotch looked around at the team. "Dave, take Prentiss and go."

"But Hotch-" Derek started.

He looked over at him. "Dave and Prentiss will go, and that's final."

He sighed, leaning back in his seat.

"Any hits on the other two yet, Garcia? Hotch asked, turning toward her.

She shook her head. "Nothing yet, but they're going through the system as we speak."

He nodded, picking up the case file and walking back to his office.

* * *

Derek paced the conference room while Rossi and Emily were gone. He ran a hand over his scalp, sighing.

"Derek, calm down," JJ said, leaning back in her chair. "Stressing isn't going to do you any good."

He shook his head. "I'm not doing anything until we have this son of a bitch in custody."

"Didn't you tell Spence you'd keep him updated on what's happening?"

"Yes, but nothing has happened."

"I think the fact that we're getting one of his attackers in custody is significant."

"If he's even there," he argued.

"Considering he's one strike away from going back to the slammer?" Garcia started. "He's going to be at his work release."

He took out his phone, calling Spencer. "If I wake him, it's on you."

She shrugged. "I'll take it."

"'llo?" Spencer mumbled, head still buried in the pillow.

"I'm sorry, kid, did I wake you?"

"Uh-uh," he said with a yawn, "watching something."

He smirked. "Really, what's on?"

Spencer looked at the blank TV and groaned. "The inside of my eyelids."

Derek laughed softly. "Thought so. Should I let you go?"

"I'm fine." He sat up on the couch, taking a deep breath. "What's up?"

"Thanks to your description, we were able to find the first guy you described. Anthony Lewis, he goes by 'Tony', and he has a lot of marks on his record, including the bar fight you mentioned that left the scar on his eyebrow."

Spencer smiled to himself. "So he's on his way in?"

Derek looked over at JJ, who had a text on her phone. She smirked, giving him a thumbs up.

"Right now. We're a third of the way there, Pretty Boy. I promise, this is almost over."

He sighed, relieved. "Thank you."

"Do you need anything else?"

"I really don't want to be a bother…"

Derek shook his head, putting the phone on speaker and setting it on the table. "That's not what I asked you. I asked if you needed anything."

"Whatever it is, 187, I'll get it," Garcia spoke up, typing on her laptop.

"I had to order new glasses. My last pair was in my bag when," he cleared his throat, shaking his head, "I was wondering if somebody could grab them for me?"

JJ spoke up. "I'll do it. The mall's on my way home, I wouldn't mind swinging by. Anything else?"

"Derek already brought ice, but I wouldn't mind some frozen vegetables for my eye? The swelling's gone down, Derek can vouch for that, but it's still awkward holding an entire ice pack to my face."

"Consider it done. Is there a specific time I should be there?"

"It's not like I have anywhere to go?"

She shook her head. "I'll give you a call when I'm on my way. Get back to sleep, Spence."

He yawned slightly. "I'll see you soon."

She smirked, hanging up.

"Is he really better?" Garcia asked.

"From those pictures? Physically, yes. His eyes are a lot less swollen, the stitches for the most part are under his hairline so not noticeable, his split lip is mostly healed."

"How's his limp?"

He turned to JJ. "He didn't walk much, but from what I saw, he's not in too much pain."

She raised an eyebrow, impressed.

"The only injury that really seems to be bothering him is the shoulder, but that one's going to take a lot longer to heal."

"What about," Garcia started, pointing to her head, "you know."

He exhaled. "He's still scared, but I think he's in a better place than I would be. I can't elaborate. I promised him anything not pertaining to the case would stay between us."

She opened her mouth to speak but sighed. "Understandable."

* * *

Hotch walked in a few minutes later and their attention shifted up to him. Their eyes were all hopeful.

"We have him in custody, but he's not saying anything."

Derek groaned. "Of course not. Send me in there, Hotch. I'll get the answers out of him in no time."

He shook his head. "Dave's in there with him now. We can hold him for 48 hours and wait for him to say something-"

"And if he doesn't, he walks," Derek said. "There has to be another option."

"There is, but we can't do it." JJ explained.

Garcia raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Derek sighed. "Hotch, that's not happening."

"It could be the only way we can pin this on him."

Garcia looked between the two. "What?"

JJ sighed, getting out of her chair. "They want Spence to identify him as his attacker."

* * *

JJ pulled up to Spencer's apartment building, bags and key in hand. She walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. He sighed, sitting up on the couch.

"Spence, it's just JJ. I'm coming in."

He looked up and saw that he'd fallen asleep before he could put on the slide lock. He bit his lip. "_Just_ you?"

"As if I'd allow anybody to tag along?"

He smiled slightly. "Come in."

She walked inside, putting the key in her pocket and closing the door behind her, locking it. "Feeling any better?"

He nodded. "It'll be easier to fill the void once I can read."

She smirked, handing him a case. "I'm sure those will help."

"Indeed." He set it on the table, pointing to the bag. "What's that?"

"Dinner." She put the bag on the table, sitting beside him.

He grabbed it, looking through. "…You really think I'm going to eat _this_ much?"

She shook her head. "Of course not." She reached in, grabbing one of the trays and tucking her feet underneath herself. "This one's mine."

He smiled, grateful that she wanted to spend some time with him. "Did you just invite yourself to dinner?"

"Mhm." She opened her container, grabbing her fork and eating. "Get used to it."

She kept him engaged in small talk, hoping to avoid the elephant in the room.

"JJ?" he asked, setting down his plate.

She turned to face him. "What's up?"

He bit down on his lip. "Did you really find one of them?"

She set down her fork, chewing. "Yeah, Spence. He's at the station now. They're holding him for 48 hours-"

"But without any incriminating evidence or witness statements, the only thing you have to go on is one of the victims."

She sighed."Yeah."

"Anything yet? Don't lie to me, I'm a profiler."

She got up, picking up their plates and walking to the kitchen, throwing them away.

"So that's a no?"

She swallowed. "He's not talking yet, and we doubt he's going to in the next 43 hours."

"What can I do?"

"Stay here and heal up. Once you come back to work, we'd be happy to have your help on the case."

He groaned. "By then, he'll be out and they'll attack somebody else."

She walked out, handing him a pack of frozen peas. "Put that on your eyes."

Leaning back, he rested it over his eyes. "Please, JJ."

She pushed his hair back. "We'll make a deal."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"If we don't get anything out of him by tomorrow afternoon? I'll personally come get you to help."

"Is that a promise?"

She nodded. "Promise."

That night, Spencer laid awake, staring up at the ceiling. Part of him was extremely relieved that one of the people responsible for what happened to him was in custody. The other part realized that the other two would probably retaliate and harm another victim with him in custody, hoping to throw them off and make them think he was innocent. It was hard for him to get sleep, knowing that most likely, somebody else would be hurting as much as he is, if not more, just because he was able to give a description and get him in custody. Most of the night was spent staring at the ceiling, thinking of what he could do to help the situation. No matter what JJ said, they needed him.


	4. Identified

The next morning, everyone showed up at work earlier than usual, hoping to make some progress on the case. JJ walked in, setting a tray of coffees on the table.

"Good to see I'm not the only one who couldn't wait to get in," she said, grabbing her cup and sitting down, sipping it.

Derek shrugged. "Who can sleep with this bastard not saying a word?" He turned to Garcia. "Anything on the other two yet, Baby Girl?"

"Hotch and Rossi are on their way to hopefully pick one of them up right now."

"Jayje, any reports of muggings in D.C. last night?" Emily asked, pouring sugar into her own coffee.

She sighed. "Derek went to the scene this morning, and Hotch already talked to the victim. No physical description on the unsubs."

Derek groaned. "How much longer do we have?"

JJ rolled up her sleeve, checking her watch. "33 more hours."

"How the hell are we supposed to get him to start talking? He's definitely not going to lawyer up, but if he keeps quiet-"

"…Maybe I could help?"

They all spun around in their chairs to see Spencer limping in, walking over to his chair.

Garcia looked over. "Can I get you anything?"

He shook his head, sitting down and reaching for the case file.

JJ put her hand down on it, holding it against the table. "Spence, are you _sure_ you want to see this?"

He glanced up at her. "I see this every time I look in the mirror at home, or anytime I pass the microwave and catch my reflection in it. I know what they're going through and I could help."

"Did Hotch give you permission to come back?"

"He didn't _not_ give me permission."

She let go of the case file, allowing him to pick it up.

"How did you get here? You didn't-" Emily started.

"I took a cab." He took a deep breath, resting a hand on his side.

Garcia frowned. "Everything okay over there, Boy Wonder?"

He nodded slightly. "With fractured ribs, you need to take a deep breath every hour, and it's still a bit painful, but I'm fine." He opened the case file, looking through and swallowing. "Up to 9 victims?"

JJ nodded. "Ninth happened after we took the first into custody."

He set it down on the table. "I want to see him."

They looked at each other uneasily. "Spence, are you sure-"

"The only way we can arrest him is if a victim identifies him. The only victim that ever saw him is sitting right here, and we have less than 33 hours before he walks. I may not actually be working this case, but I'm the best chance we have to not only put him behind bars, but end this before anyone else gets hurt."

There was silence in the room until something went off on Garcia's laptop.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

She looked down, biting her lip. "…There's a match on the last unsub."

"Show me," Spencer said without hesitating.

"Reid, I don't know-" Garcia started.

"I saw them, I know what they look like-"

She looked across the table at Derek, who shook his head.

The silence was once again broken when someone else walked in.

"Reid, what are you doing here?"

He winced, turning to face his superior. "I'm here to help."

"Did your doctor say you could go back to work?"

He closed his eyes, sighing. "I haven't seen her since I was attacked Tuesday night, so no."

JJ cleared her throat. "Hotch, what if he doesn't do anything involving the case file, but he goes with Derek while he interviews Tony Lewis? He can stay behind the glass, one of us can go with him, and if he identifies him as his attacker, we can finish this and get back to working other cases."

"And I'll give him a ride home afterward," Derek added.

Spencer hated these conditions, but looked up at Hotch hopefully. "After a few questions, I can ID both of them just by the sound of their voice. My memory may be eidetic, but I can do this. I never forget a voice."

Hotch looked around at the team and sighed. "Reid, I don't want you on this case, is that clear? After this is over, I want you to go home and take the rest of the week, as you were supposed to."

"Okay. I'll need new credentials-"

"They'll be on your desk Monday morning."

Spencer sighed, turning to Derek. "Ready when you are."

Derek got up, walking over to the elevator, Spencer behind him.

"Do you need anything?"

Spencer shook his head, sighing. "I need to feel safe again, and that'll happen once they're behind bars." He stepped in the elevator and pressed the button for the floor they needed.

To both of their surprise, Rossi followed, pressing the button to close the doors.

"How are you feeling, kid?"

He shrugged, groaning. "_Damn_ I need to remember to stop doing that."

Derek laughed softly. "I'm sure."

"Not that I don't appreciate the tag-along, but… why?" Spencer asked.

"Morgan can't be there while you identify them _and_ inside the rooms at the same time."

He bit down on his lip, wincing and nodding as the elevator started going down.

* * *

Before walking into the interrogation room, Derek turned to him.

"You're sure you want to do this?"

"I told you yesterday, Derek. I need this to be over." He sighed. "I need to stop living in constant fear, and if this is how that happens? So be it."

Rossi walked in, turning off his phone. "Garcia got a match on the last unsub. Hotch and Prentiss are on their way now."

Spencer started pacing the room, exhaling.

"You're positive-"

"Morgan, just go in."

He gave him one final look before walking into the room, sitting across from who possibly attacked him. Rossi saw Spencer's nerves and brought a chair over. "It won't do your knee any good to stand while we're waiting."

He nodded and sat down, rubbing his knee. "Judging by the fact you only just got him into custody yesterday, the case isn't going very well?"

Rossi shrugged. "What can I say? We're nothing without our resident genius."

He smiled slightly. "Thanks."

"It actually got to a point where Derek was ready to take it into his own hands and hunt down these guys himself."

"I'm not surprised." He groaned, rubbing his shoulder.

"How long are you in the sling?"

"I'm in this for another three weeks. In general, most dislocated shoulders take 4-12 weeks to heal, depending on a lot of factors, such as the amount of structural damage to the muscles, age, and physical therapy. With my luck, it'll be 12 weeks."

"It was killing you not having someone to fact spurt to, wasn't it?"

"A little bit."

* * *

"How long has he been in there?"

Rossi looked up at the clock. "20 minutes and not a word."

He chewed on his lip, shifting uneasily in his seat. "What if he knows I'm here to identify him, and that's why he's not talking?"

"No unsub thinks that far ahead. He's somebody who gets people from behind and attacks them. He's not smart enough to do that because he's a _coward_."

He reached up, wiping his eyes. "Damnit. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be getting upset."

"I can't even imagine being in your shoes right now, so I'm in no place to judge."

He nodded, sighing. "I just want to sleep at night again."

"You and me both."

It had been over an hour of Derek questioning him before he started losing his temper. He leaned back in his chair. "You know what, maybe you didn't do this. Because whoever did? Would be a cocky son of a bitch and be proud of his work. He wouldn't sit in front of me like a damn coward, staying silent for hours on end."

Once again greeted with silence, he leaned forward, trying a different approach. "We know you're not the leader of the group and you were probably roped into this and in way over your head. Whatever the case? That doesn't matter. You attacked a federal agent. If you cooperate, we can make a deal. If you keep this up? I will make sure they nail your ass to the wall."

He glanced up at Derek, clearing his throat.

"He's cracking," Spencer started. "Caving under the pressure. Derek's right, he's definitely not the leader, and he's going to want to stay safe, even if it means throwing the other two under the bus."

"You'll make a deal?"

Spencer's head snapped up.

"Does it sound familiar?"

He nodded slightly. "The hesitation in his voice… I-I heard it. He tried getting the other two to stop. Based on the case file, he's always been a follower, and that's what got him in trouble over the years." He screwed his eyes shut. "'_That's enough, I think you've made your point'_, not to mention he was the first one to start running after the attack. I just… I don't think he ever laid a hand on me. One of them had a ring in his left hand, which he doesn't, and judging by how the fists flew, they were above six feet. He's just under." He opened his eyes, looking up at Rossi. "He was there, but he didn't touch me. I'm sorry."

Rossi shook his head, patting his shoulder. "You have nothing to apologize for."

* * *

Derek walked out a few minutes later, looking at Spencer hopefully.

"He… he was there that night, but he didn't touch me. The others did. I'm sorry."

Derek tried not to show his emotions. "Don't apologize. We have two of them in custody, and he's admitted he was there. Any word from Hotch yet?"

"Nothing yet. Reid, how about I take you home so you can get some sleep?"

Spencer was quick to shake his head. "I'm not sleeping until all three of them are in custody."

Rossi looked up at Derek who shrugged. "What do you expect me to do? He's the most hard-headed of all of us, and I'm not telling him no."

He looked between the two and sighed. "Reid, are you going to be able to watch him question your second attacker?"

He nodded slightly, pushing himself out of the chair and following Derek out of the room.

While Derek was interviewing the second suspect, Spencer sighed, hoping he would say something. Rossi went to comfort him when his phone started going off in his pocket. He took it out, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

"Yeah, Aaron?"

"Are you with Reid?"

"He's in the other room, why?"

Hotch sighed, and Rossi knew this was going to be something he didn't want to hear. "He wasn't at his apartment, and there's no sign of him."

"Do you think he fled?"

"I'm not sure. We're searching his place now."

He peeked back in the room and saw Spencer sitting there, his leg twitching. "Keep me updated. I'll have Reid stay with somebody tonight."

"Do you really think he'd go after him?"

"He went through his bag. He keeps everything in there. If his two partners in crime are in custody, and only one of the victims has ever seen them-"

"I've got it. I'll let you know if I find anything."

He hung up, walking back in. Spencer quickly looked up at him. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head. "Anything yet?"

"Not yet."

* * *

"George, we know you did it. We have you ID'd, and your boy Tony threw you under the bus just on the off chance we'd make a deal with him. Now it's your chance. Tell us where he is, and you'll get less of a sentence than he does."

Spencer looked closely and saw him adjusting a ring on his finger. He gasped, his eyes widening. "It's him."

"How are you sure? He hasn't said anything."

He swallowed, pointing to the ring, then lifting his hair to show a similar indent in a bruise on his forehead.

Rossi studied it and did a double-take on the ring. He took out his phone, snapping a picture and walking into the room, handing it to Derek.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at the phone, and at his hand. He laughed softly, looking him in the eyes. "Two options. You own up to this right now, or I nail your ass to the wall. Your choice." He pushed the pen and paper over to him. "Sell your boy out, and we'll talk."

Spencer pushed himself out of the chair, sighing. Yes, he'd been able to identify two of his attackers successfully, but one was still at large, and he was the most threatening of them all. He just wanted to sleep at night, but he felt that this could possibly be worse than having none of them at all. Not only is he most likely on the run, but he's going to be extremely pissed off, especially at him. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling, hoping to calm himself down before his co-workers came back in.

* * *

Derek walked out. "You did a great job, Pretty Boy."

He smiled slightly. "Thank you."

"How about I give you a ride home? It's been a long day for you."

He nodded, biting his lip. "Please? I forgot my Tylenol and really just need to get some sleep."

"No problem." He walked out to the elevator, Spencer behind him.

He crossed his arms in front of him and stayed silent at his desk while Derek got his things together.

"How'd it go, Spence?"

He shrugged, wincing. "God _damnit_. I was able to identify both of them, but they're both just pawns in the ringleader's game. I'm not going to be able to sleep at night until he's in custody with the other two. Any word on that yet?"

JJ shook her head. "Not yet, but I'm sure Hotch will get back to us soon."

Derek pulled on his jacket. "Ready to go?"

Spencer nodded, giving JJ a quick wave before leaving.

Pulling up to Spencer's apartment, Derek looked at him. "Want me to walk you inside?"

Spencer thought about it for a minute before nodding. "It's just… with my knee, I don't know if I can make it back up the stairs by myself, and we don't have a working elevator right now, and-"

Derek put up his hand. "Stop before you give yourself a migraine." He took the keys out, walking around and helping Spencer out of the car.

While going up the stairs, he stood behind him, ready to catch him if his knee gave out, or if he lost his footing. Finally making it to his floor, Spencer limped up to his door, Derek not far behind.

"Something's wrong," Spencer said softly, looking at his door.

"…What?"

He bit his lip, putting his key into his pocket and pushing on the door. When it opened, he turned toward Derek.

Derek stepped forward, hand on his sidearm. He pushed it open and stepped into the apartment, Spencer tailing him. He did a full sweep of the place and didn't see anybody there.

"Are you sure you didn't leave your door unlocked?"

"I double-checked it, Derek. It was locked before I left."

He stepped forward, looking at the doorframe. The lock was busted off and the wood was split. "Is there anything missing?"

Spencer paused, rushing to his bedroom and checking his drawer. Sure enough, the lock was broken and the drawer was empty. "…My gun is gone."


	5. Fear

Derek sat Spencer on his bed to calm down and took out his phone, calling Hotch.

"Hotch, we have a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

He sighed, walking out of the bedroom and lowering his voice. "Not only does the unsub know where Reid lives. He came here, he trashed the place, and he stole his gun."

"And you're sure-"

"He double-checked the locks before leaving the apartment this morning." He sighed. "Hotch, this has gone from him being a victim of a mugging to this guy making it personal."

"Reid's responsible for him losing his pawns. We should've anticipated him acting irrationally-"

"There's anticipating irrationality, and then there's completely crossing the line. There were eight other victims. He's now made this personal against him and him alone, and he's armed."

Hotch sighed. "We have him on no-fly lists, not to mention every officer in the D.C. area has his photo, plates, and the make and model of his car."

"What are we supposed to do in the meantime?"

He thought for a minute. "I want you to have him pack a bag. He can stay with someone on the team until we have him. I don't want him alone at any point until he's in custody. Have I made myself clear?"

"Crystal. I'll take him to my apartment tonight, and we can figure out where to go from there."

He hung up, turning back to Spencer's room. "Get your things together."

Spencer looked up at him, confused. "…What?"

"It's obvious this isn't going to be a safe place for you. Pack enough clothes to last you a few days, and anything you'll need. Hotch doesn't want you to be alone until all of this is over."

"But-"

"You're going to stay with me for the night, and you're not going to be left alone at all until we have him."

Spencer bit down on his lip, grabbing a bag from his closet. "I'm sorry, Derek," he said softly, opening his drawers and starting to pack.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. This son of a bitch does. And once we find him, your life can go back to normal."

He nodded slightly, chewing on his lip and zipping up his bag as he finished packing.

Derek grabbed the bag, putting it over his shoulder.

"Do you have everything?"

"Mhm."

"Do you need anything else? Do I need to stop at a store on the way?"

He shook his head. "I have enough Tylenol to last, and so long as you have ice, I'm fine."

He took his keys out of his pocket. "Ready to go?"

He shrugged, wincing. "Have I mentioned lately this _sucks_?"

"You may have once or twice," he said, patting Spencer's other shoulder and walking out to his car.

* * *

Later that night, Spencer was settled in Derek's guest room, a pillow under his knee after Derek insisted. He reached for his phone when he heard it ringing.

"Hello?"

"How are you feeling, sweetie?"

He smiled slightly. "As great as I can, Garcia. Thanks for checking up."

"Anytime, Boy Wonder. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I um, I'm going to be in tomorrow. Mainly because I really don't want to be alone and risk something happening. I'd really appreciate being able to distance myself from talk of the case and-"

"Say no more. My lair is wide open for you. I'll have a cup of disgustingly sweet coffee waiting for you. I'll even bring in some cupcakes."

He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you only baked when you were stressed. Your whole explanation is 'desserts are great, and stressed backwards is desserts. It's the perfect therapy'."

She laughed softly. "Oh, you think I'm not stressed? One of Momma Bear's cubs is in trouble. Bet your skinny little ass I'm worried about you."

He shook his head. "Well, I appreciate it, I guess." He bit down on his lip, wincing.

"No wincing! Do not make me call Derek Morgan to get you some meds."

"How did you-"

"A mother bear knows. Get some meds in you, get some sleep, and I'll see you in the morning, sweet cheeks."

He knew arguing with her was pointless, so agreed. "I'll see you then." He hung up, sighing.

"Hey, Derek?"

Derek walked over, poking his head in. "What's up?"

"I hate to be a bother, but I left the Tylenol on the bathroom counter, and you told me if I try moving my knee any more today, you were going to tell Garcia and she'd take care of punishing me."

Derek laughed. "So now I know how to get you to listen. Threaten you with Penelope." He walked to the bathroom and went to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water. He came back, handing them to Spencer. "Can I get you anything else?"

"I don't want to inconvenience you at all. I'm just going to get some sleep." He popped the pills into his mouth and took a sip of his water. "Garcia said she's going to take care of me tomorrow during the day so you guys can focus on the case."

"Good idea, but you do realize she's going to baby you?"

Spencer looked at him incredulously. "And you do realize if I don't let her, she's going to insist I stay with her until I'm healed up? It's bad enough I have an unsub after me, I don't need Kevin Lynch after me too. He may not look like much, but something tells me he has a switch that if it goes off, he'll turn into an unsub."

Derek smirked, shaking his head. "Good night, Pretty Boy." He walked out, closing the door behind him. This left Spencer to stare up at the ceiling, silently praying that all of this would be over soon, and hoping that his nightmares stayed at the apartment.

* * *

The next morning, Derek and Spencer walked into work. Spencer was glad that Derek avoided talking to him about his nightmares, which seemed to come back last night in full force. He was awake half the night, recovering from constant bad dreams. He sat at his desk, drinking his fourth coffee that morning, while Derek was in Hotch's office.

"How's he doing?" Hotch asked.

Derek groaned. "He's terrified. He was up most of the night, either screaming because he was having a nightmare, or crying and trying to recover from one."

"After the trauma he's been through? It's not surprising."

"Hotch, he's beyond traumatized. I left several windows open for him to blurt out facts and tell me information, but he just stayed quiet and inside his own mind. I've never been this worried about him before."

Hotch leaned forward, lowering his voice. "There hasn't been anything about him leaving the area, so he's still in D.C. Now it's just a matter of tracking him down and ending this."

"How are we supposed to do that if he's slipped under the radar?"

"I have Garcia tracking his banking information, as well as credit card use. Everyone in D.C. knows his face based on press conferences and news reports. I promise you, Morgan, he's not getting away with this."

He looked out of the office over at Spencer's desk, sighing.

"I'm worried about him too."

He nodded slightly. "And Garcia's going to let us know if anything comes up?"

"I promise."

He walked back to his desk, sitting down and looking over at Spencer. He'd put his glasses on and was currently fully immersed in a book. He knew that Spencer was now dead to the world and he couldn't have a conversation with him, no matter how hard he tried.

* * *

The day at the BAU was unfortunately quiet, and Spencer spent the night at Derek's apartment again. JJ had offered, but in his current state, he didn't want to scare Henry if he got a look at him. The following morning at work, everyone took notice that Strauss was in Hotch's office. While everyone else tried figuring out what was going on, Spencer went to the break room, making himself some coffee.

"What do you think is going on?" Emily asked, turning to JJ.

JJ sighed. "Well, we've been on this case for several days and only have 2/3 of the unsubs in custody. The most dangerous one is still missing. I'm willing to bet she's not pleased that her best team is focused on a personal case."

"Well, she'll just have to get used to it," Derek started, leaning back in his chair, "because even if she tells me I'm off this case, I'm not stopping until we have this guy."

"I'm with Derek on this one," Rossi added, leaning against Derek's desk. "How's the kid doing?"

Derek shrugged. "At the apartment, he buries himself in reading or just stays in the guest room. I haven't really talked to him, and I don't want to push him to talk about anything he doesn't want to."

JJ bit her lip. "I'm worried about him."

Emily looked over at him absentmindedly stirring his coffee. "We all are."

Hotch walked out of his office twenty minutes later. "BAU team, conference room now, please."

They all looked around at each other uneasily before getting up, following him to the conference room.

Rossi raised an eyebrow, looking at Spencer. "Are you coming, Reid?"

Spencer sat at the desk, chin in his hand, deep in thought.

He walked over, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Reid?"

Spencer jumped slightly at the contact, snapping out of it at looking up at him. "Yeah?"

"Hotch wants us in the conference room. Are you coming?"

He nodded, and without another word, walked to the conference room.

* * *

The team looked around at each other before Emily spoke up. "What's going on, Hotch?"

Hotch sighed. "Strauss wants us to back off of this case until a point where we can catch him."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "No offense to her, but one of our own was attacked. She really expects us to turn a blind eye to this?"

"Unfortunately, if something doesn't pop up by the end of the day, she wants this case on the backburner."

Spencer bit down on his lip, chewing on it. "I don't want to be the reason the team is being held back." Everyone turned to look at him. "This is about me, and it's not fair for anyone on this team to get in trouble because of something that happened to one of us."

JJ shook her head. "The second he chose to attack one of us, he attacked all of us. I'm not backing down. His face is going to stay plastered on every news station, in every paper, and on every billboard possible until he's in custody."

"I don't want any of you in trouble-"

"She can't punish all of us. With all due respect, Hotch, I'm not stopping."

He looked around at his team. "Is this how everyone thinks?"

They collectively nodded, and he chose to ignore Spencer shaking his head.

"Then you'll be happy to know I told her that I'm not off this case until I'm forced off. I'll take any suspension threats she throws out, but I am not taking the fact that he hand-selected one of my agents and attacked him lightly. Especially now that he's made this extremely personal." He eyed Spencer. "We are a family, and none of us are resting easy until you're safe."

Spencer swallowed, giving him a slight nod.

"I want all of you looking at case files until something comes in. There's nothing else we can do until Garcia comes up with something-"

Garcia ran into the room, setting her laptop on the table and sitting down.

"What do you have, Baby Girl?"

"He just used his credit card five minutes ago at a gas station six miles from here."

Hotch leaned over, looking at the address. "Do they have security cameras?"

She nodded. "Several."

He stood up. "Dave, you're coming with me. Prentiss and Morgan, you're going to the gas station and reviewing the security footage. Reid, I want you to stay here with Garcia, in her office with the door locked. Is that clear?"

He nodded, glancing over at Garcia.

She smiled sweetly, reaching over and patting his hand. "We're getting there, sweetie."

Spencer walked to Garcia's lair, holding onto his satchel. Once he was inside and sure the door was locked, he sat on the couch, sighing.

"Honey, do you need anything? Some water, painkillers, a snack? I brought in those cupcakes I told you about if you're interested?" she asked as she sat in her chair.

He quickly shook his head. "I'm fine."

She pouted slightly. "Well, if you think of anything, just let me know."He nodded and she turned around to her monitors. "Derek is going to link me to the security footage once he gets it from the station, and if I see his license plate, he's officially going to be screwed, because the APB is going to be put out faster than you can give me statistics on the origin of APBs." She smiled to herself. "Let me guess, APB stands for A Pain in my Butt, because that's what he is?" When she was greeted with silence, she turned back around in her chair and saw him curled up on the couch, fast asleep. She got up, going into her closet and grabbing a blanket. She walked over to the couch, putting it over him before getting back to work.

* * *

A while later, her phone rang. She jumped at the noise and quickly answered it, hoping not to wake him. "Yeah?"

"What, Baby Girl, no witty greeting? I'm hurt."

She smiled slightly, lowering her voice. "I'll go back to my fun, bubbly self when Boy Wonder can sleep at night."

"Where is he right now?"

She turned around and breathed a sigh of relief. "He's sleeping on the couch behind me. From the looks of it, he hasn't really slept since before this happened."

"Wouldn't surprise me."

She chewed on her lip. "_Please_ tell me you have something."

"I need you to run a plate."

She put her fingers over the keys. "Gimme."

"6-Thomas-Alpha 4-Zebra-Peter."

She typed it in, raising an eyebrow. "Plates don't belong to him, they belong to his father," she paused, continuing to dig, "who hasn't been seen or heard from in three months."

"Home address?"

"On its way to your phone as we speak."

"You're the greatest."

"So I've heard. Now shh and go work. I'm not going to have him wake up." She hung up and went right back to work.

When there was a knock on the door, she shot up from her seat, walking over and propping it open. "I have a sleeping Boy Wonder in here, so this had better be good."

JJ held up a sheet of paper. "Local mailman recalls seeing somebody with the exact description going into a shopping mall 20 minutes ago. Hotch and Rossi are on their way there now. Do you have anything?"

She eyed the sleeping Spencer and stepped out of her lair, closing the door behind her. "He's driving around in his father's car, and his father hasn't been heard from in three months. Morgan and Prentiss are at his house now, looking into that."

"Security at the mall has all eyes out for him. He's still in there, and he's not going to be able to get out, unless he's in handcuffs. Our only problem after that is-"

"A confession or a positive identification," Garcia finished, thinking of Spencer fast asleep on the couch. "Do you think he can do it?"

She shrugged slightly. "I'm really not sure. I know he wants this to be over, but I also know he's terrified of this guy more than anything he's ever faced on the job."

Garcia sighed. "I'm worried about him. It's obvious by how quickly he fell asleep that he hasn't slept since this whole mess started. What are we supposed to do?"

JJ crossed her arms. "For now? We let him sleep, we have faith that Hotch and Rossi can find him, Derek and Emily can find something to nail him to the wall, and we pray that Spence can be in the right mindset to identify him. If he's out for more than a few hours, I'll order something. Make sure he eats, takes his meds, and gets back to sleep?"

"Promise."

She watched as JJ walked away and went back in. Luckily, Spencer was still out on the couch. She sat down, pulling up the security cameras for the mall and watching them closely.

* * *

Garcia kept a close eye on the cameras, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. She saw Hotch and Rossi running along the top level with mall security, while Derek and Emily were on the bottom level. All she could do was watch them and hope they caught him. She heard Spencer stirring on the couch quite a few times, from what she assumed was nightmares, but she was thankful that he stayed asleep for several hours. She heard him talking and mumbling, but knew better than to try to talk to him in this state. He hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in nearly a week, and she didn't want to be the one to interrupt him.

She saw something on the camera and froze, picking up her phone and calling Hotch.

"Hotchner."

She swallowed. "Sir, I believe our unsub was behind you, saw the gun, and started running in the direction you just came from. I'm pretty sure he has Reid's gun in his pocket."

"Thanks, Garcia."

"And sir?"

"Yes?"

"Do me a favor and please be careful. It breaks my heart to see one of us hurt. I don't want another."

He turned around. "I will." He hung up and started running.

She moved to one of her other screens, not being able to watch what was happening, just in case it ended poorly for one of the people she cared about. Instead, she opted to pull up a YouTube video of kittens, so she could think of something that wasn't so upsetting.

Looking back at the screen, she couldn't help but feel a rush of relief. Derek had him down on the ground in handcuffs while Emily stood by, putting the safety on Spencer's gun. She was ready to deem this a victory when she got a closer look and saw Hotch sitting on the ground, clutching his arm and wincing.

"Oh, no. Oh no no no," she whispered, picking up her phone and calling Rossi.

He took out his phone, answering. "What is it, kitten?"

"What's wrong with Hotch?" she asked, keeping her voice down.

"How do you- hacked into the mall security cameras?"

"Indeed."

"He's going to be fine. He took a shot at Hotch right before Derek tackled him and cuffed him."

"But he's okay, right?"

Hotch groaned, looking at the EMT. "It's just a graze, put a damn bandage on it so I can get back to work."

She laughed softly. "I see. Tell him I'm not allowing him back into this building until he gets that arm checked. I can fix the system to not accept his ID badge and password, so I wouldn't mess with me."

"Something I definitely wouldn't want to do. Derek and Emily are bringing him in now, I'm going with Hotch. How's the kid doing?"

She spun around in her chair, smiling to herself when she saw him curled up in a ball on the couch, the blanket wrapped tightly around him. "Getting some much needed sleep for a change."

"Good, keep it that way as long as you can. We're going to have Derek question him, and if that doesn't work, I'll let you know."

"Scout's honor, I'm not going to dare to wake him up. Spread the word to everyone not to come within feet of my lair unless they want to face the wrath of Momma Bear."

"Consider it noted."

She hung up and sighed, taking a deep breath and willing this whole mess to be over.

* * *

It was another hour before Spencer woke up, sitting up on the couch and looking around, confused.

"Well, good morning to you, Boy Wonder," Garcia said, spinning around in her chair. "Sleep well?"

He nodded slightly, checking his watch. "Did I really just sleep for four and a half hours?"

"Five, actually. You were pretty much out the second you hit that couch."

"Sorry," he mumbled, stretching slightly.

"Sweetie, don't be. It was quite obvious you really needed to get some sleep. Did it help?"

"Mhm. I didn't wake up, did I? I didn't-"

She shook her head. "It was definitely very peaceful, and I'm glad it was for you."

He smirked. "Anything yet?"

He felt extremely relieved when she gave him a nod. "They got him at a shopping mall a few miles away. Derek's downstairs questioning him right now and – where are you going?"

He pushed himself off the couch, wincing and walking out.

She got up, following him. "Hi, 187, it's Garcia, I was talking to you. Where are you going?"

He pressed the button on the elevator. "I'm ending this."

"Ending thi- what are you thinking? In case you've forgotten, I'm not a profiler. I can't read your mind."

"He's not going to start talking until he has a reason to talk. Yes, there were warrants out for his arrest and there's enough to hold him, but I'm going to make him admit what he did."

"…How are you going to do that?"

He stepped into the elevator, pressing the button and pushing on the close door button. "I'm pulling it out of him."

Before she could give a full reaction, the doors closed in front of her. She groaned loudly, walking back to her office and picking up the phone, dialing Emily.

"What is it, PG?"

"Boy Wonder's awake and he asked what happened. He's on his way down there right now."

"Wha- how did he get past you?!"

"For an injured agent, he moves pretty fast. I need you to stop him from talking to him, because I don't know what sort of emotional scars this is going to leave."

She sighed, walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. "It could leave a lot more if he sits back and says nothing."

"What?!"

She leaned against the wall. "Sometimes, when you're the victim, what you need more than anything to get over it is to face your attacker. I'm not sure that's the case with Reid, but if it's what he needs to do so he can have some closure and keep the nightmares away-"

"But what if it's the exact opposite of what he needs?"

"We'll deal with that if that's the case. If talking to his attacker is what helps? I can't stop him."

She groaned. "Take care of him, please?"

"I promise, PG."

She hung up, walking back in the room, sighing and crossing her arms while watching Derek attempt to interrogate him.

Rossi raised an eyebrow, turning to her. "What's wrong?"

"Reid's coming down here to interrogate him, whether we let him or not."


	6. Interrogation

Spencer limped into the room, a determined look on his face. Emily glanced over at him, but knew better than to talk. This was not a time to talk him down or try to take this from him. Talking to this guy was going to be what he needed to get over what happened to him. Being the one who would make the decision to put him behind bars was one of the last steps to get over everything. She took out her phone, texting Derek.

_Come out, someone else is here to interview him._

Spencer saw Derek eye his phone and walk out. "Who's going to do it?"

Spencer glanced up at him. "I am."

"…You're sure about this?"

"I haven't slept in nearly a week because _he_ is the reason I've had endless nightmares. If I can get him to say something and put all of this behind me? I can finally relax."

Derek looked over at Rossi and Emily, who gave him a nod.

"Do you need me to go in there with you?"

Spencer shook his head. "You can if he tries anything, but I need to do this on my own."

He patted Spencer's good shoulder, squeezing slightly. "If you need anything, I'll be on the other side of this glass."

He nodded and took a deep breath before walking inside, sitting down in front of him.

Spencer couldn't ignore the small grin that crossed the man's face when he saw him.

"Okay there, g-man?" he asked, leaning back and crossing his arms.

Spencer gave a slight shrug, pushing the pain he felt back into his mind. "I've been through worse. This is nothing but the work of a coward."

"What makes you say that?"

"The facts," he started, looking him in the eyes. "Only a coward would initiate an attack on somebody from behind in the dark late at night. Someone who actually had a pair would've been a man about it. He'd make sure I saw his face, knowing it'd be the last thing I'd see if I didn't pull through. But you know what? You failed. You ran away with your tail between your legs, terrified the second I shot my gun. A real man would've faced it instead of running."

"I wasn't there."

Spencer laughed softly, shaking his head. "I can prove you were there."

"Thought you said you didn't see anything."

Spencer could hear the nerves in his voice and considered it a small victory. "There are _so_ many perks to my job. Why? I can read body language better than the average person can read a book. Your lip started trembling the second I called you a coward. You want to prove that you're a man, but you can't, because the only way you can assert your masculinity is with anger. That explains why your last girlfriend had to change her identity and go into hiding. Because you couldn't talk out your problems with words, oh no, you had to use your fists. She couldn't _stand_ to be around you anymore, so she got as far away from you as she possibly could. I could stop right here if you'd like to confess, or I could keep going."

When the response was a simple shrug, he smirked. "You only sexually assaulted your first, fifth, and ninth victims. All of which were _much_ smaller than you and couldn't fight back, even if they tried. You knew better with the other victims, because they would've had fight in them. You have to prey on those that are weaker than you. It's what you need to feel good about yourself, but let's be honest, you're impotent. Maybe _that_ and not the fact that you need to beat your girlfriends is why you can't keep one. They're not satisfied with you."

He jumped up, pulling at his wrist currently linked to the handcuffs on the table.

* * *

Derek shook his head. "I'm going in there."

Emily put a hand on his arm. "He needs to do this to feel better about what happened to him. If you go in there and save him-"

"I'll save him from this son of a bitch finding a way to hurt him again."

Hotch sighed. "Derek, if he doesn't have a confession in the next few minutes, I give you permission to go in there and save him. Until then, just let Reid get him riled up. He might let something slip if he gets angry enough."

Reluctantly, Derek nodded in agreement, looking back in the room.

* * *

"I can end this _right_ now if you just admit what you did, or I can keep going and we can wait for the DNA samples to come back and nail you to the wall." He shrugged slightly. "It's your choice."

"And if I did?"

Spencer groaned internally. It wasn't a confession, it was an inquiry. "If you did? You'd be going to jail for each attack, and you probably won't see the light of day until your funeral. Both of your little pawns sold you up the river to reduce their sentences, so even if you don't admit it, you're going away for them."

He clicked his tongue. "I want a lawyer."

Spencer laughed. "And I want this to not have happened to me. I guess we're both screwed."

"I want a lawyer," he repeated, eyeing the two-way mirror.

* * *

Hotch sighed and looked over at Derek. "Get him out of there."

"Just because he lawyered up doesn't mean-"

"He's asked for a lawyer, and anything he says past this point can't be used against him, because he requested legal counsel. Get Reid out of there."

He groaned, getting up from his seat.

* * *

Spencer slammed his hand on the table. "Why did you do this?"

He shrugged. "I don't have to say anything."

Spencer glared at him. "_Why_ did you do this to me? What could I have possibly done to you to deserve this?"

He gave Spencer a smirk. "What, g-man, are you scared?"

"Of you? Definitely not. We all get what we deserve. You deserve to be somebody's bitch in prison, while I deserve an explanation."

* * *

Emily gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. "He's been spending _way_ too much time with PG."

Even Rossi had to resist the urge to chuckle.

Derek shook his head, walking in the room. "Reid, that's enough."

Spencer looked up at him. "I'm not leaving this room without an explanation."

"He's asked for a lawyer, there's nothing we can do until he gets one."

Spencer shrugged, staying put in his seat.

Derek sighed, grabbing his arm and pulling him up, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

"_Why_ did you do that? I had him and he was going to admit he did it."

"He asked for a lawyer, we can't do anything else."

"What so we're just going to let him sit in there and come up with a way to get out of this? No, absolutely not."

"Spencer, I get it, you're scared-"

Spencer mock laughed. "Oh, so you _know_ me now, Derek, is that it? You _understand_. You _empathize_? I thought you promised not to make me a victim. You all did, and guess what, you failed at it. I am not a god damn victim here, Derek. I am a federal agent and I deserve to get my answers."

Derek had no response, so he just reached over, wrapping his arms around Spencer and rubbing his back.

Spencer sniffed, shaking his head. "I need this to be over." His lip trembled as he rested his head against Derek's shoulder. "I can't sleep, I can't eat, I just… I need him to own up to what he did."

Emily sighed, walking over and running a hand through Spencer's hair. "This is almost over, Reid. I promise. The fact that he lawyered up doesn't change what he did."

He sniffed again, his eyes brimming with tears as he turned to face her. "I'm scared. I can't live in constant fear for my life anymore-"

"And you don't. We have him in custody. He can't hurt you as long as he's here."

He blinked, tears finally running down his cheek. He swore at himself for getting this upset in front of his team. Never in his six years at the BAU had he ever let his emotions show. He always internalized them and kept them to himself, as to not upset anyone else.

She leaned over, kissing his forehead. "You're safe now, Reid. He can't do anything."

He nodded slightly before burying his head in Derek's shoulder, crying. All Derek could do was keep his arms around Spencer, rubbing his back. He knew one day he'd finally see him snap and show his emotions, but he just wished it hadn't come with so much baggage. Usually, Spencer had his shield up, but now, even in front of their superior, he was crying out all of his feelings.

* * *

Hotch looked over at Derek. "Can you take him home with you tonight?"

Spencer shook his head. "I'm not going to be a burden anymore," he mumbled, sniffing.

Emily sighed. "What if you come back with me tonight, Reid? I have the pull-out, and it'll just be tonight, so you don't have to feel like you're being a burden on Derek anymore."

He sighed, nodding. "That's fine."

She looked over at Hotch. "I know you guys are probably going to be working late, but-"

He put his hand up. "The two of you, go get some sleep. You could both use it."

Before she could ask, Derek spoke up. "His go-bag's under my desk."

She put her hand on Spencer's back, rubbing it. "Let's get you home. It's been a hell of a day."

He sighed, nodding and following her out.

Derek turned to Hotch. "If this son of a bitch walks-"

Hotch shook his head. "Not happening. We at least have him on dodging a warrant and his father's murder."

"He'd better be charged for the muggings-"

"And he will. Once he talks, and I think you're the right person to do it once his lawyer gets here."

* * *

While Spencer went to Garcia's lair to grab his satchel, Emily walked to the bullpen, pulling Spencer's go-bag from under the desk.

"How is he?" JJ asked.

She sighed. "He just had an emotional breakdown in front of everyone. Luckily, it wasn't in front of his attacker, but he _lost_ it."

"Was it really that bad?"

"Jayje, I've been working with him for a few years now, and I didn't even know he was capable of showing emotion. I was there for Hankel and narcotic withdrawals and Benjamin Cyrus… all of those had _no_ results. But this? I've never seen him so vulnerable or scared before."

JJ crossed her arms. "Put any of us through that and we'd have the same reaction, I'm sure."

She shouldered the bag. "I'm taking him in tonight while Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan are going to pull a late night trying to get him to talk. Keep me updated?"

"Of course."

She gave her a quick thank you before walking over to Garcia's lair.

Spencer grabbed his bag off the couch, picking it up. "Thanks for letting me sleep in here today."

She smiled. "No problem, 187. My couch is yours for the sleeping."

He chewed on his lip. "And thanks for, you know, everything. Taking care of me. Most people would think I'd hate it, but it felt kind of nice."

"Anytime, sweetie." She got up from her seat, wrapping her arms around him and rubbing his back. "If you need to talk at all, I'll be here. I promise."

He nodded against her shoulder before pulling back, sighing. "I'm going to be at Emily's for the night, so if you don't get an answer on my phone, try her."

"Will do!"

He walked out and looked at Emily. "Ready to go?"

She nodded, leading him out to the garage.

* * *

Once he was settled in her apartment, she went to the kitchen. "What are you in the mood for?"

He shrugged, wincing. "Damnit. I'll really eat anything."

She reached for a stack of take-out menus, fanning them out and holding them out to him. "Close your eyes and pick one."

He raised an eyebrow, but went along with it. "It's not like I can see much, anyway… but, if you insist." He reached out and picked one out, handing it to her.

She studied it. "Haven't had Italian in a while. What do you eat?"

"I guess I could go for some fettuccine alfredo."

She picked up the menu, grabbing her phone and walking to her room.

He reached for the remote, flipping through the channels. He landed on the news and saw coverage of his attacker being arrested. He bit down on his lip, screwing his eyes shut and pulling his knees to his chest.

Emily walked back in, setting her phone back on to charge. "Should be here in about a half hour. I also ordered some garlic bread, I'm sure you don't mind." When she didn't get a response, she looked over at the couch. Spencer was curled up, trying to catch his breath. She turned toward to the TV and saw news coverage of the case. She sighed, turning off the TV and rubbing his back. "Reid? Reid, it's Emily. You're fine, nothing's going to happen to you. He's in custody and he can't hurt you. I need you to take a deep breath. Can you do that for me?" He glanced up at her. She reached a hand over, squeezing his. "I'm here and you're safe, I promise."

He took a deep breath, wincing and exhaling. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "Don't be, it happens to the best of us."

He put a hand over his face, sighing. "I'm sorry."

She ran a hand through his hair. "Stop apologizing. With this job, we all have panic attacks once in a while."

He swallowed, nodding.

* * *

After dinner, Spencer took a quick shower and curled up on the couch. Emily knew better than to poke and prod in his business. She brought out some blankets and pillows, turning out the lights and lying back on her bed.

She was woken up several times that night by a panicking and screaming Spencer. He had several nightmares pertaining to the case, and each time he'd sit up and spend at least a half hour trying to calm himself down. She went out after his fourth one, getting him some Tylenol and a water. She sat beside him, rubbing his back. "Everything okay out here?"

He nodded slightly, wiping his eyes. "I'm sorry, it's just… I can't stop them from coming."

She handed him the pills, which he quickly swallowed. "We all have nightmares. It's nothing to apologize for. It comes with the job."

He sighed. "Please tell me you've heard from somebody that something's happened?"

She frowned. "I wish I could, but there's nothing right now. Maybe we'll hear in the morning."

He bit down on his lip, nodding.

"Do you need anything, or-"

"I just want to get some sleep. I'm sorry for waking you."

She shook her head. "_Stop_ apologizing, Reid." She ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it. "I'll be in my room if you need to talk."

He gave her a quick thank you before pulling the blanket over himself, dozing off.

She walked to her room, grabbing her phone and calling Derek.

He answered, sighing. "Hey, Prentiss, you can't sleep either?"

"Wish I could. Even if Reid wasn't up every few hours, I've been wide awake. Did you guys get _anything_?"

"Unfortunately, he's been quiet since lawyering up."

She groaned. "We need to do something to get this out of him. We just need a _single_ confession and we can charge him for all of this."

"I've been thinking all night. I think I might have something. Listen, I need you to stay with Reid tomorrow."

"Yeah, no problem. I'll keep him at his desk all day."

He shook his head. "You need to keep him _out_ of the offices. Hotch approved of it, and thinks he needs to take a few more days before his psych evaluation, because at this rate, Hotch thinks he's going to fail it."

"He won't fail if this ass would just _confess_ already."

"Tell me about it. You just need to keep him away from work until this is over."

"Because we were able to keep Garcia from the BAU after she was shot, right?"

"Just try your best, it's all I ask."

She sighed, but agreed. "Okay. Try getting some sleep tonight."

"Yeah, you too."

She hung up, leaning back and willing this whole mess to be over.


	7. Resolution

The next morning, Emily woke up early and walked out to the living room, turning off the alarm on Spencer's phone. She also jotted down a note for him for when he did wake up, letting him know that it's okay he overslept, because they didn't need to go in. Hoping that would work, she went back to her room, curling up under the blankets and getting back to sleep.

She was woken up a half hour later by the smell of coffee. She raised an eyebrow, walking out to her kitchen.

"What are you doing?"

"Making some coffee before work?" he said, as if it was obvious.

"…Didn't you get my note?"

He nodded, holding it up. "I did, I'm just choosing to ignore it."

She groaned, leaning on the counter. "Reid, we don't need to go in. This means that we get to catch up on sleep. I don't know about you, but I count that as a small victory, considering what we do for a living."

He shook his head. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I can't just _sit_ here and wait for him to confess what he did to me."

"Reid, trust me, I know it's hard. When I was at Interpol, something happened to me, and I wanted that bastard to admit it and suffer. Me being there didn't do them _any_ favors and just made it harder to get a confession. You intimidated him yesterday when you interrogated him. You showed him how badly he messed up. Now you need to trust that your co-workers are doing the right thing."

He bit down on his lip. "I just want this to be over."

She reached over, rubbing his back, and considered it a small victory when he didn't pull away from her. "And it will be. I told Derek that the one condition of us staying home is hourly updates on what's going on. So, what do you say? Foreign films and board games?"

He smiled slightly, nodding. "Though I have to warn you, I _will_ win at Scrabble."

"Oh, I'm sure."

* * *

While they were watching _Solaris_, a film entirely in Russian, Emily's phone started ringing. She paused the movie once she saw Spencer's head shoot up and answered.

"Yeah, JJ?"

JJ sighed. "How is he? How'd he do last night?"

"So it's going that bad, huh?" she asked, pushing herself off the couch and walking to the kitchen, taking out a water bottle.

"_Oh_, he's right there, gotcha. Derek told me you expected hourly updates. I thought you'd like to know that while he hasn't caved under the pressure yet, he's definitely showing signs of struggle. Hotch thinks we might be able to break him today."

She exhaled, relieved. "The sooner I can get Reid back to work, the better. He was up at 8:00 this morning making coffee and expecting me to get out of bed."

Spencer looked up at her. "Actually, it was 8:15."

JJ laughed softly. "Enjoy. If we're still up to this tomorrow, he can stay at my place. The bruising is down enough that Henry won't be too scared."

"Sounds great. Let me know if anything else happens?"

"You bet."

She hung up and turned to Spencer, holding out a water to him. He took it, taking a sip. "Anything yet?"

She nodded. "He's showing definite signs of breaking, and Hotch thinks it's going to happen today."

"And we're going to get another update?"

"Probably in the next hour." She reached up in her closet, taking out a box. "Can you multitask, Doctor Reid?"

He looked over. "Enjoying a great foreign film _and_ beating you at a word game? Definitely."

She shook her head, setting it up and pulling her tiles out. "Somebody's cocky."

He went to shrug, but stopped himself. "It's not cocky if it's the truth."

She laughed to herself, glad to finally see the light-hearted Spencer Reid again.

Emily scanned her letters, chewing on her lip before setting some down. "A-b-o-u-t. About, seven points."

Spencer sighed. "If _that's_ what you want to be proud of," he started, writing down her score and setting the pad down, scanning his own letters.

She put a hand over them. "Whoa, what?"

He sat up, eyeing the board. "Well, about is a good choice, but the word 'some' is already on the board from your last turn, and there are four blank spaces without any overlapping letters to ruin your word. You could've very easily made the word 'autosome', which would be only ten points, _but_ you'd have the triple word score on the end which would give you thirty, and you'd have the double letter score on the 'o', which would be enough to give you the lead." He shrugged slightly, wincing. "But no, 'about' is a good choice."

She shook her head. "I've said it before, I'll say it again. There's a lot to hate about you, Doctor Reid."

"This won't help," he started, setting down his letters.

She gasped. "Oxygen? You _seriously_ just had an x-y-g-e-n sitting on your slate?"

He nodded slightly. "And with the double word score? Hello, thirty-four points."

She shook her head. "The next game won't involve logic. Then maybe I'll have a shot."

"Good luck."

* * *

Spencer reached over on the third hour, answering his phone. "Hello?"

"…Are you and Emily _still_ watching that Russian movie?"

"It's Solaris and it's five hours long. We still have a couple of hours left."

"…And that's why I'm glad you spent the night with her."

He mock laughed, rolling his eyes. "What is it?"

"Have you taken your meds lately?"

"Yes, _mother_."

Emily raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him. "Garcia?"

He shook his head. "Derek."

She laughed softly as Derek responded. "Very funny, kid."

He leaned back on the couch. "Do you have something for me?"

"… I thought you'd like to know that he admitted to attacking you."

His eyes widened. "He what?"

"With his lawyer sitting right next to him, he told me that it was his idea to attack you."

He swallowed, exhaling. "Play the tape."

"…Excuse me?"

"I-I need to hear it, so I know this is over. Please."

Derek walked over to the video, rewinding it. "You're sure about this, Pretty Boy?"

"Derek," he warned.

He sighed and pressed play as Spencer put his phone on speaker, swallowing.

"Everything okay?" Emily asked.

He nodded. "He confessed," he said softly, waiting for the tape to play.

_"Did you attack a federal agent?" Derek asked. There was a long pause and he groaned, asking again. "Did you attack a federal agent?" Greeted by silence, he hit his fist against the table. "I'm not playing games here. You're going to jail, that's inevitable. If you just admit what you did, it'll be a hell of a lot easier on you. If you don't tell me what you did to one of my co-workers right now, I will get a polygraph in here, and I will get the answers I'm looking for."_

Emily reached her hand over, squeezing Spencer's. He squeezed back, taking a deep breath and sighing.

_"Yeah, I did it."_

_By Derek's tone of voice, Spencer could tell he was getting more and more furious. "Why?"_

_"He was an easy target. We knew he'd be there."_

_"How did you know?"_

_"Usually if he goes missing for a few days, he comes back late at night or early in the morning."_

_Derek scoffed, disgusted. "So you hand-selected him to attack?"_

_"What can I say? He wouldn't put up much of a fight._"

Spencer bit down on his lip, squeezing his eyes shut and squeezing Emily's hand.

_"Why did you think that?"_

_He laughed. "Look at the guy. Does he look like he could hit?"_

_"But he had a gun. And the second he shot, you ran away scared."_

_"Anyone with half a brain will run when you hear a gun shooting near your head."_

_"Why did you make this personal? Why did you not only attack him, but go to his apartment?"_

_"If I was going after him again, I didn't want him to shoot me."_

Spencer heard the chair slide out, and knew that Derek officially lost his temper. _"So, what, you were going to shoot him?"_

_"If it had to come to that."_

_"Get him out of my sight."_

Derek turned it off, picking up his phone. "Spencer, are you okay, kid?"

He sniffed, wiping his eyes and nodding. "I'm fine. Thank you." He exhaled shakily, biting his lip and shooting up from the couch, walking to the bathroom and closing the door.

Emily picked up the phone. "Thanks, Derek."

"Is he okay?"

She sighed. "He had a really bad panic attack last night, I think he's having another one. I've got to go."

"Hotch wants the team to go out to dinner tonight, sort of so we can put all of this behind us and get a new start. Are you two in?"

She looked over at the bathroom door. "I can try like hell to get him there, but that's all I can guarantee. Listen, I've got to check on him. Text me the details for tonight?"

"Will do."

She hung up the phone and sighed, hoping she'd be able to get him out of this.

* * *

She walked to the bathroom, knocking softly. "Reid? Everything okay?" When there was no response, she sighed. "I'm coming in."

Once again greeted with silence, she reached down, opening the door and walking in. She saw Spencer curled into a ball in the corner, panting and struggling to catch his breath. She felt her heart cringe and sat in front of him, taking his hands. "Reid?"

He sniffed. "I deserved it."

She shook her head, pushing his hair back. "No, you didn't."

He took a shaky breath. "He chose me. He wanted to attack me because I'm weak-"

"You are _not_ weak," she snapped, squeezing his hand. "Do you hear me? You are not weak. A weak person wouldn't have thought to reach for his gun and scare them off. A weak person wouldn't be able to give full statements. A weak person wouldn't talk about it time and time again because he knows it'd bring an end closer. I've known you for several years now, and the Spencer Reid I know is the last thing I think of when I hear the word 'weak'."

He took another breath, exhaling and squeezing her hand back. "He wanted to attack me-"

"And he underestimated you by a long shot. Because of you, he's going to be in jail and never hurt anybody ever again."

He looked up at her, tears streaming down his cheeks. "He didn't only take my possessions. He took my sense of safety. I can't… I can't go back to that apartment knowing that he invaded my privacy and tried finding me there. It doesn't matter that he's going to be in jail forever. I still have the memory of him wanting to hurt me _twice_."

With no more words, she leaned in, wrapping her arms around him. She rocked him back and forth, rubbing circles on his back and humming softly as he got everything out. She knew how hard it was for him to show emotion around his co-workers, and knew better than to continue arguing with him. Instead, she sat there with him while he got a much needed cry out of his system.

When she was sure he was done, she pulled back, rubbing his back. "Better?"

He nodded slightly, wiping his eyes and sighing. "I'm s-"

"If the next word out of your word is 'sorry', Spencer Reid, I swear-"

She couldn't help but feel relieved when she was greeted with a smile and a small laugh. "Right, sorry."

She shook her head. "You really are something else." She got up, holding out a hand.

He pulled himself up, sighing. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Well, take a shower or clean yourself up, and we're going out to dinner with the team to get our minds off of this, and you're going to continue to stay with someone on the team while you look for an apartment where you can feel safe."

"I don't want to impose-"

"And you won't be imposing. We're a family, and a family takes care of each other in times of need. Until a time when you're ready to be on your own again, we're not going to let you be alone. Is that clear?"

He nodded slightly. "Is dinner on Rossi?"

"Isn't it always?"

He smiled slightly. "Just give me a few minutes and I'll be ready."

She ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it, before walking out and closing the door behind her.

* * *

Her phone went off and she walked to her bedroom, answering it. "Hey, PG."

"I've been calling him for the past twenty minutes and not getting an answer. How's my Boy Wonder? Is he sleeping? Is he doing okay?"

She eyed the bathroom door, remembering the events of the last hour. "He's fine, he's just taking a shower now."

"Derek said that asshat finally admitted what he did…"

"And he said he chose to go after Reid both times because he's weak."

She gasped. "Oh he is _so_ lucky he's already going to be somebody's bitch in prison, or I'd go to his cell and beat him until he's unrecognizable."

"…You just snapped one of your pens in two, didn't you?"

"Yes, and it was the pink feathery one!"

She laughed softly. "Never change, PG."

"Trust me, I'm not interested. Ever. Are you guys coming to dinner?"

"We'll probably be there in a half hour."

"See you then!"

"…You made him a gift basket, didn't you?"

"…Just a little one."

She smirked, shaking her head. "Of course. Any word from Hotch?"

"He's been quiet about the whole situation, but I'm pretty sure he's doing Reid's psych evaluation tomorrow."

"_Tomorrow_? How the hell is he supposed to pass it with everything that happened today?"

"I don't know, sweetie. But apparently, he has no authority here. Strauss ordered it, considering her best team spent the last week working on this case. She wants him to be completely level-headed before coming back to the team."

She rolled her eyes. "So basically, she wants to have to suspend him for a few weeks while he sits at home, thinks about everything that happened to him, and deals with overwhelming anxiety because he not only has to do that, but miss work as well?"

"Trust me, I'm trying here, and so is Hotch, but nothing's working. You're not going to tell him, are you?"

She chewed on her cheek. "I'm not sure yet." She checked the clock. "I'll see you in a half hour, PG."

"Take care of him."

"I promise."

She hung up, groaning, willing the next few days to be a lot easier than she was anticipating.


	8. Family Time

When they arrived at the restaurant, Spencer sat down, avoiding eye contact with everyone and opting to focus on his menu.

Garcia nudged Emily, motioning toward him and whispering. "Is he okay?"

She nodded slightly. "He's lost in his own mind right now. Unfortunately, it happens a lot these days." She turned back to him. "Right, Reid?"

He paused and turned to her. "Hm?"

She shook her head. "Nevermind." When she was sure he'd zoned out again, she turned to Hotch. "Can I talk to you?"

He looked confused, but nodded, getting up from the table and following her outside.

She sighed, crossing her arms. "Strauss wants his evaluation tomorrow?"

"I tried everything I could to get her to change her mind. It wasn't enough and she says since it's been nearly a week, he needs to talk about it and pass by _her_ standards."

She gasped, disgusted. "_Her_ standards? God, she already hates Reid. She hates our entire team because we don't conform to her rules. You're really going to let her fail him and make him sit around, thinking about his failure? He's never failed _anything_ in his life, and this is a shitty thing to start with."

"If there was anything I could do, I would. She's already upset that we spent the last week on a personal case-"

She rolled her eyes, scoffing. "Yes, because he was the _only_ person attacked, right?"

"She doesn't see that. She just sees that we were too wrapped up in a case involving one of our own."

She sighed. "What are we going to do if he fails?"

"I can honestly say I have no idea."

* * *

Derek nudged Spencer's arm. "How are you feeling, kid?"

"A little bit sore. There's a lot of shrugging when Emily tries to make up words on the Scrabble board, and it hurts."

Emily ruffled his hair, taking her seat. "You beat me every time. I could've made up those words and you'd still be fine."

"…But it wouldn't have been honest."

"Oh, please." She sat down, looking at her menu.

After they ordered, he cleared his throat, sighing. "Can I just say something?"

Garcia smiled. "Of course, honey."

"I um, I can't thank you all enough, for making this case a priority. I know, 'we're a family' and I know 'they attacked all of us', but it really means a lot that you were pulling late hours to do this for me. You even gave up this weekend so you could work this case. I promise, if the tables are ever turned, which I sincerely hope they never are, I'll do the same for you."

JJ reached a hand over, grabbing his and squeezing it. "Anytime."

He smirked, squeezing her hand back.

"Do you maybe want to come spend the night at my place? I'm sure Henry could use the cheer-up of seeing his Uncle Spence, and I think seeing him might do you some good."

He winced. "I-I don't know, JJ. I mean, my face hasn't quite healed yet and I can't exactly walk in looking like Frankenstein's monster and expect him to warm up to me."

She shook her head. "He loves you regardless."

"Except that time he swung Pretty Boy's cane at his bad leg," Derek said.

She rolled her eyes. "He was just over a year, and being able to do that was impressive."

"It actually is," Spencer defended, "considering his age and how heavy it was. I was more impressed than upset."

Rossi shook his head. "Why am I not surprised?"

Spencer shrugged, hissing. "God _damnit_ I can't wait for this to be over."

Garcia bit down on her lip to keep from laughing and put up her hand. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but hearing you cursing like a sailor is the funniest thing that's ever happened on the job."

To everyone's surprise, Spencer laughed himself. "I'm glad I could entertain you."

* * *

Most of the meal was spent quiet, mainly because nobody wanted to say something to somehow upset Spencer and ruin the nice time out they were having. Once they were finished eating, everyone said their goodbyes to each other, all of them excited to have Spencer working again in the morning. For how long, however, was a mystery. Emily walked over with his bag, holding it out. Before Spencer could grab it, JJ snatched it, putting it over her shoulder.

"Are you going to let me carry my own bag?"

She thought for a second and quickly shook her head. "Not a chance."

He turned to Emily. "Thank you for everything. I appreciate it."

She rubbed his back. "Anytime."

Garcia walked over, wrapping her arms around him, hugging him. "Sleep tight, my sweets."

He winced slightly, hugging her back and resting his head on her shoulder. "I'll try. I'll see you tomorrow?"

She patted his back. "You bet, Boy Wonder."

He sighed, turning to JJ. "You're sure about this?"

"Positive. Henry's not going to care what you look like. Just seeing your face makes him happy."

"Let's hope so," he mumbled, following her out to the car.

* * *

Walking into the house, JJ went straight to the guest room, setting down his bag before he could grab it.

"You really don't need to do that-"

"Considering just moving your shoulder hurts? I'm not going to have you lifting _anything_ on my watch."

He rolled his eyes, walking to the living room and sitting on the couch. Meanwhile, JJ walked to the nursery, sitting beside Will and kissing his cheek.

"How was he today?"

He smiled. "Think he's going to take off on us soon, the way he's walkin' round."

JJ smirked. "Let's see if he'll keep that up for his uncle." She reached over, picking him up and getting up, walking out to the living room.

"JJ, are you _sure_ about this? I don't know if it's a good idea."

"Spence, for the love of God, shut up."

"You know you're the second person on the team to tell me that?"

"Then maybe you should start listening?" she suggested, sitting on the floor and setting Henry in front of her. "Come on down."

To avoid being snapped at again, he sat beside her. "What if he gets upset?"

"He won't, but if you don't stop feeling all paranoid, he will be."

Spencer sighed. "Fine."

She reached over, grabbing one of Henry's toys and shaking it, gasping when his ears perked up. "If you want it, you have to come get it."

He raised an eyebrow. "How do you suppose he does that?"

"Just watch." She shook it again and tossed it in Spencer's lap.

He looked at her, confused, but caught on when Henry pulled himself up, toddling toward him. He couldn't stop himself from smiling when Henry made it to him, grabbing the toy from his lap. "How long has he been at this?"

"A few weeks now. He's just perfected it this week."

"That's impressive. You know, most children-"

She shook her head, reaching over and cupping a hand over his mouth. "You are _not_ comparing my son and your godson against statistics, or so help me God, Spencer Reid-"

"Nevermind."

* * *

Later that night, Spencer was sitting up in the guest room, reading.

JJ walked in, setting an ice pack on his knee. "Can I get you anything else?"

He shook his head, looking up from his book. "I'm fine."

"…Are you sure?"

"At this very second? Yes. With the current living arrangement, having to hop between my coworkers' homes because I can't stand to step into my own apartment? Not really."

She reached over, rubbing his back. "Spence, you're not being a burden on anybody. We don't mind taking you in, because we know if the tables were turned and one of us needed to stay somewhere, you'd offer up your couch in a heartbeat. No, scratch that, you'd offer your bed and sleep on the couch yourself."

"I would not-" she gave him a look and he sighed, "you're right, I would."

"Exactly." She sat beside him. "If you need _anything_, and I mean anything, my bedroom is two doors down. Will knows the situation and he won't get upset, I promise. Whether it's some ice or your pills or if you just need to talk. We're here for you and don't want you to feel guilty if you need something."

He raised an eyebrow. "…Thank you."

She smirked, shaking her head. "No need to thank me, we're family. Now," she started, getting up. "Get some sleep." She grabbed the book from his hands, putting in a bookmark and setting it on his go-bag across the room.

He gasped. "That's not fair. I can't exactly get out of bed to go get my book-"

"That's the point." She turned off the light before walking out, leaving the door open a crack.

* * *

JJ was woken up several times that night by whimpering, but not from Henry's room. Instead, it was pained whines and whimpers coming from the guest room. At one point, she contemplated getting up, but Will shook his head, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her back down.

"He doesn't need you to check on him. It'll be a hit to his masculinity. He needs to let it happen."

She sighed, resting her head on the pillow. "Fine, but one more bad one and I'm going in there."

As she predicted, she needed to get up and make sure he was okay. She walked into the room, grabbing his good shoulder and shaking lightly. "Spence," she whispered. "Spence, it's JJ. Wake up, it's just a bad dream."

With one final wince and whimper, he blinked, looking up at her. "I'm sorry," he whispered tiredly.

She shook her head. "You have nothing to be sorry for." She ran a hand through his hair soothingly, trying to calm him down. "We all have bad dreams once in a while. It happens. Do you need to talk about it?"

To her surprise, he nodded, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. He swallowed and chewed on his lip. "I… I know he's away and he can't hurt me anymore, none of them can, but I can't help but think about, with what we do, how much danger is really out there for me. Add in the fact that I'm extremely accident prone on my own and I'm not-"

She put up a hand, stopping him. "You're worried about your ability to still do this job?"

"Well, yeah." He sniffed, swallowing. "I know it's ridiculous, but… if I let this get to me, what's to say I won't let anything else?"

She reached for his hand, squeezing it. "Because I know you, Spencer Reid. And I have seen you at the lowest point of your career. I saw you going through hell. I saw you _die_, for crying out loud. But that never stopped you. You came back, you played along with his delusions, and you shot him. You came back to work right after that and, despite going through drug withdrawals, you still excelled at your job. Not to mention you were legitimately poisoned, and instead of going to a hospital like you should've, you decided to keep working to help other people." She reached up, running a hand through his hair. "I know you, Spence, and I know that you're going to overcome this."

He sighed. "But… but Tobias Hankel didn't specifically target me for weeks. Neither did Chad Brown. These guys did. How am I supposed to keep doing my job knowing that somebody actually wanted to put me through that?"

"That's simple."

He raised an eyebrow, looking up at her. "Oh?"

"You use it to fuel your fire. Anytime the job has you down, you remember this happened to you, you got over it, you helped find them, you scared the daylights out of the most threatening one, and you got him locked up for good. Your biggest concern in life right now is work in the morning. His is protecting his ass in prison."

He bit down on his lip with a slight smile. "Really?"

She leaned over, kissing the top of his head. "Really. Now, get some sleep. Early morning tomorrow."

He gave her a nod before lying back down. Before returning to her room, she tucked him in, silently praying that everything would go well.


	9. Evaluated

The next morning, JJ had the two of them into work early. The one thing she didn't want to do was make him late today of all days and cause him to stress. She sat in her office, keeping an eye on Spencer out in the bullpen. He kept himself busy, going through the case files in the stack on his desk, blocking out everything around him.

Hotch walked up when he came in, tapping him on the shoulder.

Spencer jumped slightly before turning to face him. "Sorry. Yes?"

"I'd like to see you in my office."

He nodded, setting his case file down and following him to the office, closing the door behind him. "What's this about?" he asked, sitting in the chair in front of his desk.

He sighed, shifting uneasily in his seat. Spencer knew that bad news was ahead.

"Chief Strauss wants you to do your psych evaluation today."

He chewed on his cheek. "But it's only been six days. What… why would she order it if the case just ended?"

"I guess her mindset is the sooner, the better. She thinks since the team spent six days on the case as opposed to only a couple of days, you might be affected by it-"

He laughed nervously. "Of course I'm affected by it. I was mugged walking home from the train at 2 in the morning. Anyone would be affected by it." He paused. "…She wants to suspend me for firing my gun off-duty, doesn't she? Even if it was self-defense."

"I wish I could say I had an answer for you, Reid, but she didn't let the conversation get that far. She's very cautious when she's talking to profilers, because she knows what we're capable of."

He leaned back in the chair, biting down on his lip. He sighed, drawing into his mind. She was going to suspend him – of that he was positive. For how long was the question. Then there's the psych evaluation. She could order him off the job for weeks, maybe even months, if she saw it as the right thing to do. She'd rather he get beaten to near-death than have fired his gun to save himself.

"Reid? REID."

He snapped out of it, looking over at Hotch, who seemed to be worried about him. "I'm sorry."

"Worst case scenario, if you do end up being suspended, I'm making you a deal. If the team is called on a case, I'll involve you. You obviously won't be able to travel with the team, but you know this team isn't complete without your help. You can still stay with members of the team, because you're still part of our family whether you're on the job or not. You don't have to set foot in your apartment again until a time when you're ready, and if that time doesn't come, we're more than willing to help you move."

He nodded slightly, exhaling. "Is it wrong to be slightly terrified right now?"

"Having had to do an evaluation with Strauss before? I would be too."

"Anything else?"

"If you'd like, I can ask you some of the questions on the evaluation, so you can prepare your answers-"

Before Hotch could finish his question, Spencer put his hand up, shaking his head. "As much as I'd appreciate it, it wouldn't be fair. Obviously judging by my appearance right now, fairness isn't on my side, but I can't go in with prepared answers and expect to pass. She may not be a profiler herself, but she'll see right through it, know you helped, and not only take it out on me, but you as well. I know you love Jack and he'd love spending the extra time with you, but two team members suspended is the last thing we need right now, especially with her having a vendetta against this team."

Hotch shook his head with a light-hearted laugh. "Always looking out for everyone, aren't you?"

He shrugged slightly, biting down on his lip and groaning. "Though obviously I'm an imbecile when it comes to remembering that I shouldn't move my shoulder." He pushed himself out of the chair, sighing. "Wish me luck?"

"Good luck."

He walked back out to his desk, sitting down and flipping open his case file. He noticed a fresh cup of coffee sitting in front of him and raised an eyebrow, looking around. The only other people on the team that were there were Emily and Derek. Emily seemed to be buried in her work, so he eyed Derek, who held his own cup up in a silent 'cheers'. He smiled slightly, mouthing a thank you and taking a sip. He was glad that he had been able to cry in front of Derek, and that it was never going to leave the two of them. Not only that, but the one time he broke in front of the team would never be brought up again, because that's how their family worked. He silently dreaded the second that Chief Strauss came in, since she'd want to see him immediately. Rather than focusing on that, he enjoyed his cup of coffee and tried to set everything into the back of his mind.

* * *

The morning went by quietly until Spencer's phone started ringing. Everyone paused their work to look over at his desk. He closed his eyes and swallowed, before taking a deep breath and answering his phone.

"Spencer Reid."

"Agent Reid, I'd like to see you in my office."

He chewed on his lip. "Yes ma'am. Right away." He hung up and took another deep breath before pushing himself out of his chair, not even glancing at his teammates before walking down the hallway.

"I don't like this," Emily muttered, leaning back in her seat. "I don't like it at all."

Derek sighed. "That makes two of us."

* * *

Spencer walked to her office door, knocking.

"Come in."

He tried his best to keep his face when he went in, taking the seat in front of her desk.

She reached over, closing the door and walking to her desk. "Do you understand why you're here, agent?"

He nodded. "A multitude of reasons. You want an accurate story of what happened to me last Tuesday. You'd like to know why I fired my gun while I was off duty. You want to know what my doctor's said, though I'm sure you collected the injury reports. You want to know why I allowed my team to spend so much time on this case when it's quite obvious it was personal, and finally, you want to know why I haven't been to my apartment in a few days."

"That about sums it up. Proceed."

He swallowed, trying his best to keep eye contact. "The team got back extremely late from the case in Arizona, and rather than have one of my coworkers up further past their personal limits, I decided to take the subway. I didn't want to inconvenience anybody or be responsible for them falling asleep at the wheel after dropping me off, so it was the best decision. I got off my subway stop and after walking a few blocks, a set of hands grabbed me and slammed me into the wall, while another starting punching me mercilessly. The first unsub was able to throw me to the ground with such force that it dislocated my shoulder, while the other hit my head against the pavement so hard, I required eighteen stitches on my forehead." He lifted his hairline to prove his point.

"At which point you fired your weapon?"

He bit his lip, shaking his head. "No. I let it go on, because I figured all they wanted was to get my wallet. They could have it, considering I don't have much to take. When it dawned on me that they weren't going to stop, I did the one thing that made sense in my mind. I took my weapon out and I shot it into the air."

"Did you look where you were shooting?"

He sighed, knowing he couldn't lie about it. "No, ma'am. At that point, I had been hit in the face so many times that I couldn't see, and if I tried opening my eyes, the pain was blinding."

"So you shot, not knowing where you were aiming?"

He shook his head. "I've told you before, when you're being tortured, there's no end in sight. I chanced that I was aiming correctly, and perhaps we can focus on the fact that I did, in fact, simply fire a warning shot. They took everything I had on me, including my credentials, and I was slipping out of consciousness. I had to find a way to stop it before they did kill me."

She frowned. "Unfortunately, Agent Reid, we can't simply focus on the fact that you didn't hit one of your attackers-"

"I understand," he spoke up. "And I'm willing to take whatever punishment you deem fit for doing so, because firing my weapon off duty, even if it was in self-defense, was reckless."

She stilled before writing on her notepad and looking back up at him again. "Do you remember anything after firing the shot?"

"I um… I set the gun down on the ground and tried getting up. That was my priority. I needed to get up so I could go home, get some sleep, and come to work in the morning. I didn't care about my physical appearance at the time, I just wanted to stick to my routine. But… I was stuck. I couldn't move a single muscle in my body without going through excruciating pain." He closed his eyes, quickly shaking his head and glancing at her. "The next thing I knew was I had an EMT shaking me on the shoulder, which was my way of knowing I was still alive. He talked to me and I felt everything in the process. After I was loaded into the ambulance, my next memory was waking up in the hospital."

Again, he saw her taking notes.

"Agent Hotchner was my emergency contact, since I don't have family out here, and he showed up at the hospital to take me home and make sure I got some rest. He came back the following morning with the officer and the sketch artist, who were able to give you the statements I'm sure you already have."

"How did your team become involved with this case?"

"I'm not… I'm not entirely sure. I know the case came across Agent Jareau's desk, and she takes cases based on where the greater threat is. I'm sure the fact that there were seven other victims was more important than somebody she knew being hurt."

"Did you ask anyone on your team to take this case?"

He shook his head slightly. "Absolutely not. And I wouldn't have requested it of them, either. In fact, I didn't want any of them to even know what happened. The case file told them everything before I had an opportunity to come up with my own reasoning behind the bruising and the injuries. I only found out when Agent Jareau came to my apartment to check on my injuries herself."

She paused. "How did you become involved in this case?"

His first instinct was to tell her that JJ wanted his help, or that Derek was going to give him information. Instead, he shook it off. "I requested to be a part of it."

"Knowing that you had a personal bias?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"Yes. Agent Morgan put me through a cognitive interview for information, at which point I put myself into the case, ignoring my personal time I took off to heal, ignoring my doctor's orders to relax, and wanting to put an end to these crimes not only for myself, but for my fellow victims. I felt their pain and I knew what they were feeling, and I couldn't sit back and wait for an answer to be found, so I decided to find it myself."

"And when you questioned your attackers-"

He swallowed. "I lost my professionalism along the way, and I let it get personal. It's my fault for throwing myself into the investigation, and nobody on my team should be at fault for it. I allowed myself to come to work, I found my own way, and I worked this case, even though I was injured."

"So you _didn't_ request that your team back off this case?"

He had, but he didn't want the team to be in any trouble because of him. "It's my fault, and I take full responsibility."

She pursed her lips together in thought before writing down more notes. "Why haven't you been in your apartment in several days, Agent?"

"Personal reasons. One of my attackers decided to single me out and target me, and to be honest, it's what I'd prefer to somebody else getting hurt." He shrugged slightly, avoiding his urge to curse at the pain. "He came to my apartment, kicked open the door, rummaged through my things, and stole my gun from a locked drawer – the same gun he used to shoot at Agent Hotchner, which is probably sitting in evidence as we speak. I'm currently looking for a new apartment and staying with team members as they offer, not wanting to impose on anybody."

She finished writing and looked up at him. "You may go while I think about this."

He nodded slightly. "Thank you, ma'am." He got up, walking back out to the bullpen and taking his seat.

"What's the verdict?" Emily asked nervously.

He sighed. "Only time will tell."

* * *

It had been an hour before Chief Strauss walked into the bullpen, avoiding eye contact with the team and walking up to Hotch's office, closing the door behind her.

Derek chanced a look over at Spencer. "What'd you get, kid?"

He shook his head slightly. "Not enough to know what she's thinking. She doesn't have any indicators in her body language, nor does her facial expression say anything."

Emily rolled her eyes. "It says something alright. 'I have a stick permanently shoved up my a-"

"Emily!" JJ snapped.

"Oh come on, we're all thinking it."

Derek laughed softly, shaking his head as Garcia walked in, setting a box on Spencer's desk.

He raised an eyebrow, looking up at her. "Yes?"

"You said it yourself, when I'm stressed, I bake, and one of my babies being hurt is definitely means for stress." She took the cover off, showing him. "You're the only one I know who would appreciate my Whovian cupcake decorations."

He smirked. "Thank you."

She closed the container before leaning over, running a hand through his hair. "How did it go?"

"I did what I had to. I told her the truth, I told her that I injected myself into the case, I told her that I insisted the team stay on it-"

"But, Spence, you didn't. We requested your help, made a deal for you to work the case, and pushed you to let us keep working on it. You didn't-"

"I did what I had to so I could protect my family," he said, looking around at all of them, "and whatever she decides, I don't want _any_ of you to feel guilty. I was attacked, I chose to work this case, and if she asks, I forced the team to keep working until they were caught. I don't mind taking the blow on this one, because I know if the tables were turned, all of you would do the same."

Garcia pouted. "For a genius, sometimes, you're really thick-headed."

"Thick-he- what does the thickness of my head have to do with anything?"

She shook her head, smiling. "And sometimes, you're an adorably clueless genius."

* * *

They all went quiet when Spencer's phone rang. He saw Hotch's number on the caller ID and eyed all of his co-workers, before picking it up and answering.

"Yeah, Hotch?"

"Come to my office, please."

He sighed. "Right away, sir." He hung up and raised his eyebrows at his teammates, before getting out of his chair and walking up the stairs and into the office, closing the door behind him.

"Have a seat."

He nodded, taking the seat in front of his desk. Surprisingly, Chief Strauss was in Hotch's usual seat.

"I've finished going through the details on your psychological evaluation, as well as looked at all the factors in the story you gave not only to me, but the police officers and your co-workers."

He sighed, nodding, bracing himself for whatever was coming to him.

"And it's quite clear to me that you care very much for this team, and you're in the right state to return to them-"

He wanted to thank her, but could sense a 'but' coming.

"However, at times your behavior was irresponsible, bordering on completely reckless. You chose to have your team work a case so you could get your answers. Not to mention you fired your weapon carelessly, not worrying about harming one of your attackers."

He cringed, urging himself not to speak up against this: he knew better. Surprisingly, he stayed quiet while she finished talking.

"Because of your actions, Agent Hotchner and I have agreed on a three-week suspension, effective immediately."

He squeezed his eyes shut, nodding. He knew Hotch didn't agree to it. He knew Hotch fought tooth and nail for him, trying to keep him there on the team, and giving him something to hold onto when he desperately needed something solid. He also knew that he couldn't solely blame Chief Strauss, because the bureau did have standards for his actions, which included suspensions. He reached in his pocket, taking out his ID and setting it on the desk. "I-I don't have my gun or badge on me, considering what happened. If they end up being recovered, you can take them as well."

"Do you understand your punishment, Agent Reid? This is not because of your team, nor is it the chain of events that occurred."

He sighed. "I understand," he spoke softly. "As you said, I was reckless and irresponsible, and those actions can't go unnoticed, no matter what the circumstances. It's not based on my psychological evaluation, which you believe I passed, but on the bureau's standards." He bit down on his lip. "Thank you for your time, and I'll see you in three weeks. May I go?"

She gave him a nod and he got up, walking out to his desk and grabbing his bag, shouldering it and holding out a hand to JJ. "Key?"

Without a word, she reached in her pocket, taking out her house key and holding it out to him. With a quick nervous smile, he took it, grabbed the box from his desk, and walked out to the elevators.

"What happened in there?" Derek asked.

JJ sighed. "Nothing good."

After Strauss left, Rossi walked to Hotch's office, closing the door behind him.

"Yes, Dave?" he asked, not looking up.

"She gave the kid _three weeks_ for firing his weapons in self defense? _Three weeks_?! From what I hear, Agent Greenaway actually shot an unsub and just had to do a psych evaluation."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "My hands are tied, Dave. Reid lied through his evaluation. He decided to take the blame for everything involving the case, saying that he injected himself into it and he insisted that the team stay on the case. She said that three weeks is the average suspension time for firing your weapon off duty-"

"You have to know that's a complete crock, Aaron. She did it because she's anti-Reid," he shook his head, "scratch that. She's anti-this team."

He gave a slight shrug. "I tried, Dave. I argued for him and tried to get him off with another psych evaluation and probation. Unfortunately, she wasn't having any of it. She insists that three weeks is what the bureau gives in this type of situation, and I'm on thin ice with Strauss as we speak. I tried my hardest, but it wasn't enough to her."

"There's _no_ way around it?"

He shook his head. "Three weeks is the maximum that a section chief can assign without involving the director. He wouldn't even know about the suspension, and going to him would only aggravate her more, causing her to take it out on this team."

"The kid's going to hate this."

"I know."

He sighed, looking out at the bullpen. "And they're going to be pissed."

"Trust me, I know."

"Do they know yet?"

"No, but I know he's staying with JJ, so even if they don't find out here, she's going to get her answer tonight."

He raised his eyebrows, exhaling. "We'd better hope no cases come across JJ's desk in the next three weeks, or we're screwed."


	10. Stir Crazy

Spencer sat up in the guest room, sighing, twirling his two year NA coin in his fingers. He couldn't believe that he'd managed to get himself suspended for three weeks for using self defense. If he were to go back though, he wouldn't change a single word he said. For all the team had sacrificed for him over the past week, the least he could do for them is take the hit from Strauss. He exhaled, putting the coin back into his pocket and lying back on the bed and slipping his eyes shut, waiting for the next three weeks to be over with.

He was woken up when he heard the front door close and sighed, pulling the blanket over his head. He really didn't want to face JJ and have to tell her about what happened. He knew he couldn't escape it when he felt a dip on the other side of the bed, indicating she sat beside him. She rubbed his back, sighing.

"How are you feeling, Spence?"

He pulled the blanket down, looking up at her. "Like I greatly dislike Erin Strauss?"

She smirked. "We all have that feeling right about now." She chewed on her lip. "How bad is it?"

"Hotch didn't tell you?"

She shook her head. "He said what happened in there was only the business of the people who were in the room, and I understand if you don't want to tell me-"

"Three weeks unpaid suspension for firing my weapon off duty, even though it was in self defense."

She gasped. "Spence, that's… completely unreasonable. That's not even close to fair. You can't just let it happen."

He shrugged slightly, wincing. "What else was I supposed to do, argue with her? Then she would've tacked on more time for me talking back to her and fighting it."

She ran a hand through his hair. "You know, you didn't have to take the hit for all of us. We would've taken whatever she had-"

"I wanted to, and given the opportunity, I'd do it again."

She smiled slightly. "Only you. Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm fine. And don't worry, I'll be out of here in a few days. I don't want to take up any space or be in your way-"

"Be in the way? You spend all your time in here reading and sleeping. You're far from in the way. Stay as long as you need."

"…Are you sure?"

"Positive." She leaned over, kissing the top of his head. "I'm going to make dinner, what are you in the mood for?"

"Anything that doesn't come out of a fast food box."

"I think I can manage that." She ruffled his hair and got up. "Dinner in an hour."

He gave her a nod before pulling the blanket over his head again.

* * *

When JJ walked into work on the third day of Spencer's suspension, Emily turned to her. "How's he doing?"

JJ leaned against the desk, crossing her arms. "As you'd expect. He doesn't know what to do with his time off, and I'm pretty sure he's using my laptop to take online courses in _something_ to fill the void."

"Wouldn't surprise me. How's his anxiety? When he stayed at my place, it was pretty bad…"

"The panic attacks are horrible, the nightmares are worse." She ran a hand through her hair. "They're so bad, and I can't say anything to make it better for him. Telling him that his attackers are locked up does nothing but make him think someone else wants to hurt him. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, so I just comfort him the best I can and hope the nightmares stop enough so he can get some sleep."

Emily frowned. "And this is only three days in? I can't imagine what the rest of the three weeks are going to do to him."

She shrugged. "He won't set foot in his apartment to pick up anything he needs, so I need to swing by after work so he can have some clothes. He's been looking at the ads, but can't find an apartment he likes as much as his current one."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"I sure hope so."

Derek sat down, turning to JJ. "Do you mind if I stop by your place at lunch to check on him? Maybe I can get him to talk about it."

She reached in her pocket, taking out her house key, tossing it onto his desk. "Be my guest. Fair bit of warning – he locks the door and sets the alarm if he's the only one home. If he's asleep, the code is 1622."

He put the key in his pocket, nodding.

Garcia walked into the bullpen. "_Please_ tell me he's doing better today?"

JJ chewed on her cheek. "Better than he was when he started healing, yes. Better in the mental sense?" She thought and slowly shook her head. "Unfortunately not."

She pouted. "There has to be _something_ we can do for him."

"Hotch's hands are tied. He can't change the suspension, and the director has no idea because the time she gave him is the maximum without involving him. I guess all we can do is be there for him and hope for the best."

* * *

At lunch, Derek went to JJ's house, knocking. When that went unanswered, he reached in his pocket, taking out the key and unlocking the door. Sure enough, Spencer had set the alarm and he punched in the code. Closing the door behind him, he locked it and looked around. "Reid?"

With no response, he walked down the hall to JJ's guest room. Pushing open the door, he saw Spencer fast asleep, and it seemed like he hadn't had such a pleasure in over a week. He walked over, spotting something shiny on the nightstand. Reaching over, he picked it up and read it: it was Spencer's coin for staying clean of narcotics for 2 years.

"It's one of the few things they didn't take from me," Spencer mumbled, eyes still closed.

Derek looked down at him. "How long have you had this?"

"I got it the week before the case in Arizona." He finally opened his eyes, pulling the blanket away from his face and looking up at him. "You know, it's funny, it's currently one of the most difficult times of my life, and I haven't even thought about relapsing."

"That's actually pretty impressive, considering everything you've been through."

Spencer kicked the blankets off himself, sitting up. He gave a slight shrug. "There are better outlets for my emotions than illegally obtaining a narcotic and shooting up." He got up, walking out to the kitchen to make himself some tea. "None of them help with the anxiety or the panic attacks, but they keep away any thoughts of cravings. Can I make you a cup?"

Derek shook his head, sitting at the kitchen table. "So the anxiety is that bad?"

Spencer mock laughed as he poured the hot water into his cup. "It's not exactly _good_. Sitting around thinking about what happened and how I got suspended." He sat across from Derek, putting the sugar into his tea. "And I have another two and a half weeks of it."

"You could always fight it?"

Spencer quickly shook his head. "I know better than to go against Strauss. The only thing it would do is hurt me in the end." He sipped his tea and looked down at the cup. "Besides, I'd much rather I take a three week suspension than have the entire team on suspensions. I know you'd do the same for me."

Derek wrung his hands before glancing up at Spencer. "How are you doing?"

"As you'd expect, and worse. I can never stop the anxiety attacks from coming, and they usually come when I'm alone so it takes a while to pull myself out of them." He swallowed. "Sometimes it's easy. Other times, it takes me a while. It usually involves flashbacks to that night, when I was just lying on the pavement, bleeding and unable to move, waiting for either death to come for me, or somebody to come save me." He cleared his throat, shaking his head. "I was in the hospital and I just… I don't know. I had this out of body experience where I saw my injuries, and it's really difficult to explain. But I keep going back to that and I wonder why I was worth targeting."

"You know as well as I do that unsubs don't care or put too much thought behind their attacks. They just knew you'd be there and took the opportunity. I'm sure if you hadn't been there, it'd be somebody else."

"Did they find my credentials?" Spencer asked, hoping to change the subject.

Derek sighed. "No, not yet. They searched all three apartments and haven't found anything that was on you. I know how much it sucks, but you can get new ones."

"I guess." He bit down on his lip. "How do you do it, Derek?"

"Do what, Pretty Boy?"

"You told me a while ago about the nightmares, and how to stop them, and I just-"

"You want to know how I keep them away?" When Spencer's response was a nod, he sighed. "The best way to do it is to talk about them with somebody, anybody really. If you put what happens out in the open and talk through it, it's not as bad."

Spencer closed his eyes, nodding. "Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"I need to talk about it."

Derek checked his watch and saw that his lunch hour was almost up, but decided this was more important. He leaned forward. "I'm all ears."

* * *

For the first time, Spencer opened up, telling Derek every single detail of his nightmares. There were nightmares where he relived his mugging, ones where the unsubs came back for him, and some where he imagined the whole thing. Each one filled him with paralyzing fear and woke him up in the middle of the night near tears and on the brink of a panic attack. He felt himself getting upset while telling Derek, and he felt better about himself when Derek reached over and squeezed his hand, encouraging him to keep going. Once he was finished, he sighed, leaning back in the chair. It felt as if a ton of weight was lifted off of his shoulders.

"Better?" Derek asked.

He nodded slightly with a smile. "Much, thank you."

"Anytime. I'll always have time to help you. Especially after you took this punishment from Strauss for the team."

He straightened in his seat, looking over at the clock. "You should get going."

Derek checked it with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah, I guess so." He got up, tucking JJ's key back into his pocket.

As Derek started walking away, Spencer chewed on his lip. "Hey, Derek?"

Derek raised an eyebrow, turning around to face him. "Yes?"

He swallowed, looking up at him. "When I come back, can you teach me to fight?"

"Fight as in-"

"As in if this ever happens again, whether it's on the clock or not, I want to be able to defend myself without having to reach for my gun and get in this much trouble again."

Derek thought about it and smiled. "It'll have to be early Saturday mornings when I have the time-"

"That's fine. I'm usually up."

"And I'm the biggest pain in the ass instructor you'll ever have."

"I'll get over it."

Derek smirked. "Then it sounds like a plan." He turned to the door and looked back at Spencer. "Quick question for you."

"…Okay?"

"JJ says you've been stealing her laptop. _What_ are you doing?"

"Taking Philosophy courses. I'm currently four credits shy and the courses I'm working on now will get me the degree."

"What, the other five degrees aren't enough for you?"

"What can I say? Six sounded better."

With a laugh, Derek shook his head. "Bye, Pretty Boy." He walked out, closing the door and locking it behind him.

* * *

When he walked back into the bullpen, he walked over to Emily's desk, handing the key to JJ, who checked her watch.

"Lunch was over nearly an hour ago. What took you so long?"

"I was talking to Reid," he said simply, sitting down at his desk and picking up a case file.

"How is he?" Emily asked.

"…Better." He knew not to mention what happened between them, because Spencer wouldn't want it to leave their conversation. "He was fast asleep when I got to the house. You know he wraps himself up in a blanket cocoon when he sleeps? If it wasn't for the snoring, I wouldn't have known he was in there."

Emily couldn't hold back her laugh. "Trust me, I know. It's odd waking up to a cocoon on your couch where a Spencer Reid once was. And if he senses you watching him, he profusely apologizes, gets up, and folds the blankets up."

"I didn't quite get that, because he was still half asleep, but watching him wiggle out of that thing was definitely entertaining."

"He's better though? Like _really_ better?"

Derek considered it, and remembered the talk he had with him. Without taking another second, he nodded. "I think the visit really helped him, and he's going to be able to handle the anxiety."

JJ held up her fingers, crossing them. "Let's hope so, because he's still got two and a half weeks to go."


	11. Quick Fix

On the fifth day of Spencer's suspension, he actually slept in for the first time in a while. He was only woken up when he heard his phone ringing several hours after JJ had left. He sighed, poking his head out of his blankets and pulling his phone over. He checked the caller ID and raised his eyebrow at the 'John' flashing. He couldn't help but wonder why his Narcotics Anonymous sponsor would be calling him, especially considering his status in the FBI. Shrugging it off, he cleared his throat and answered.

"Hello, sir."

Spencer could practically feel the headshake and chuckle through the phone. "For the last time, Spencer, when it comes to situations outside of work, it's just John. Save the 'sir' for the office."

He sat up in bed, stretching slightly. "Right. Sorry, sir." He winced. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

He looked over at the clock and saw that it was nearly afternoon. Impressed with himself, he raised his eyebrows. "Not that I don't appreciate the call, but… why _are_ you calling?"

"I just wanted to check in. I've got to admit, I'm a little worried about you."

"Worried? Why?"

"I haven't seen you at any of the meetings lately, and I heard around the bureau that you haven't been at work all week. I just wanted to be sure everything was okay."

"Wow, I um, I really appreciate the check-in. I've-I've been fine. Pretty great, actually. Considering."

"…Considering what?"

He paused. Did the FBI director really not hear about one of his agents being attacked? "…Last Tuesday, I was attacked on the way home from the subway station near my house. Ended up in the hospital with several injuries after I all but bled out on the pavement. I was out of work a few days and-"

"And you're okay? You haven't had any cravings, considering the situation?"

"Surprisingly, not." He pushed himself off the bed, limping to the kitchen and filling a glass with water. "I don't have a medication strong enough for the pain, unfortunately, but weighing the options, it wasn't worth giving up two years." He popped the pills into his mouth, swallowing and taking a sip of the water. "The thought really hasn't even crossed my mind, which I find extremely impressive."

"It is indeed. So you're out of work on disability?"

He laughed softly. "Not quite." He finished his water and set the glass in the sink, making a mental note to wash it before JJ came home.

"I'm sorry, I don't follow you."

He sighed. "I had to find a way to get my attackers to back off and stop beating me, so I reached for my gun and shot it into the air to scare them off. Luckily it worked and nobody was harmed, well, except for me. After my boss came to get me at the hospital, I talked to the police the next morning. It ended up being a pending case that became federal when I was attacked, and the team spent the last week on the case. I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I'll stop."

"No, by all means, keep going."

He sighed, knowing he couldn't lie to the director. Bending the truth with Strauss was fine, but the last thing he wanted to do was piss someone off as high in the chain of command as he is. "Well, I tried telling the team to back off the case and that it wasn't important to me, because I didn't want them in trouble. The team stayed on the case, I injected myself into it after they asked for help, I made the case personal while interviewing the unsubs, but we caught them." He cleared his throat. "Understandably, I needed to go through a psychological evaluation with Chief Strauss, since my weapon was fired when I was off duty, and I had gone through a trauma. She gave me the interview, she talked about it with my superior, and called me into the office. I was handed a three week suspension for firing my weapon off duty, which I took, because it was a stupid thing for me to do-"

"…You were given three weeks for firing a weapon off the clock?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, yeah? Chief Strauss said that was the standard punishment for such an offense-"

"…Spencer, the maximum amount of time that can be given for firing your weapon while off-duty is two weeks. Considering it was in self-defense and your life was on the line, it'd be a _maximum_ of five days. She gave you _three weeks_?"

"…Like I said, she said it was standard-"

"No, it isn't. It's the maximum punishment that a section chief can hand out without having to run it through me." He heard a frustrated groan and a pause. "Don't worry, Spencer. I'll have you back to work in no time."

His eyes widened. "John, sir, please don't get me in any more trouble with her. She already has a personal vendetta against my team. I don't mind taking the three weeks if it means that my team isn't affected by her."

Again, he could hear the headshake. "Don't worry, Spencer. _You're_ not the one in trouble. I'll have you back at work on Monday, guaranteed."

He couldn't help but feel extremely relieved while a smile crawled across his face. "Thank you, John."

"Anytime, Spencer. And if you feel yourself slipping because of all this, even if it's the slightest bit, don't hesitate to call me."

"I won't."

"And Spencer?"

"Yes?"

"We miss you at the meetings."

He smirked. "I'll be at the next one. Maybe I can give a pep talk."

"That'd be great. Goodbye, Spencer. I'll talk to you soon."

"Goodbye, sir." He scrunched his face, cursing himself before hanging up. He wasn't sure what was going to happen at work, and wished he could be there to see it unfold. However, it felt great that come Monday morning, he could be over this slump of doing absolutely nothing, considering he _already_ finished his coursework a few weeks into the semester, and could actually do something again.

* * *

JJ walked in after work, typing in the security code to disable the alarm. "Spence, are you up?"

"Yeah, I'm in here," he called from the guest room, sitting up with the laptop.

"Did Will not come home with Henry yet?" she asked, walking toward the room.

"He did, and he decided he was going to take him for a walk in the park about twenty minutes ago." He glanced up at her, eyebrow raised. "Why do you look so happy?"

"Oh, Spence, you missed a good one today."

"…A good what?"

She smirked, shaking her head and sitting at the foot of the bed. Before she started her story, she looked at his face, gasping. "Spence, your bruising's almost gone!"

He raised an eyebrow. "It is?"

She reached in her purse, taking out her mirror and handing it to him. "See for yourself. The swelling's gone on your eyes and nose, and the discoloration is fading."

He checked his own reflection for the first time that day and was pleasantly surprised. "I almost look human again."

She smirked, shaking her head. "You look fine, Spence." She took back the mirror, throwing it into her bag.

"So what happened today?

She crossed her legs underneath herself. "I can't even begin to describe how great it was. Did you know the maximum suspension that can be given for firing your weapon in self-defense is five days?"

He thought for a moment. John had told him that earlier this morning, but JJ didn't know about their friendship. Instead, he looked and shook his head. "Strauss gave me three weeks?"

She put up a finger. "Ah! I'm getting there. It turns out that three weeks is the maximum punishment that a section chief can assign to an agent without having to involve the director. With your passed psychological evaluation being turned in, he wouldn't be checking the suspension period."

"I'm not following?"

She smiled at him. "It turns out the director went to Strauss today about your file, because he was looking through psychological evaluations. It got extremely loud very fast. She tried arguing with him that you needed the three week suspension to think about what you'd done, while he argued that there was no justification behind the suspension. She did it because of her personal vendetta instead of for a fair reason."

"Is there a point to this story?"

She hit his leg. "I'm getting there! He reviewed your evaluation and the case file, and saw no problem with the team taking the case, nor did he think you made it personal, unlike what Strauss's notes said. He'd gone to Hotch and gotten the story from his point of view, and also got it from everyone on the team. She bent the truth on it to make it seem worse than it actually was, and he was pissed."

"So what happened?"

She hit his leg again. "You're so impatient."

"I'm just saying, if you'd written it down, I'd have read it, memorized it, and be telling it to you right now verbatim."

She shook her head. "He looked over the evaluations, took our accounts, and came to the conclusion that not only is your suspension too long, it's unnecessary. According to the director, you should've never been suspended in the first place, and Strauss applied her personal bias to your evaluation in order to break up the team, even if it was only for a few weeks."

"…Wait. I can go back to work?"

"First thing Monday morning. He said to tell you he's sorry, and he'll hand deliver your gun and new credentials to your desk on Monday, along with a personal apology."

He raised his eyebrows, trying to seem surprised. He was, but he didn't want to make it seem like seeing John was more than every once in a while around the office. "So, I'm back?"

"You're back!" she reached over, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a hug.

He ignored the pain in his shoulder, hugging her back. This was definitely the best news he'd gotten in a while.

"So what happened to Strauss?" he asked, hooking his chin on her shoulder.

"She's been asked to take a temporary leave of absence, and when she gets back, she needs to issue an apology to you and the rest of the team for her actions."

He couldn't hold in his laughter, burying his head in her shoulder.

She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, Spence?"

He nodded, laughing to himself. "Oh, this is perfect."

* * *

**Author's Note**: For anyone who's curious, this is the same John from the episode 'Elephant's Memory'. I always thought that he was someone high up in the FBI and wanted to include him as Spencer's sponsor.


	12. Learning to Fight

On Monday morning, JJ woke up to the sound of Spencer moving around in the kitchen. She walked out and looked at him with a slight glare as he turned on the coffeemaker.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, taking out a coffee mug.

She shook her head. "I'm _always_ up at 6:00 a.m. when we don't even need to be at work until 9:00."

He paused, eyebrow raised. "Sarcasm?"

"You bet. Can you keep it down while I go get another hour of sleep?"

He gave her a thumbs up and she trudged back to the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Meanwhile, Spencer grabbed the newspaper, flipping open to the ads and trying to find an apartment.

When JJ had actually woken up, she walked out to the kitchen and saw Spencer already dressed for work, ready to go.

"You do realize that we don't need to leave for another hour?"

He gave her a quick nod before looking back at the ads. "Can you blame me for wanting to get back to work?"

"Oh, not at all." She poured herself a cup of coffee before sitting in front of him. "Anything?"

"There's a few places that are sticking out, and a few of them have garages so I'd be able to start driving my car into work, instead of taking the subway."

"Are the Spencer Reid subway days over?"

"Considering my last experience didn't go so well? I don't think I'll ever set foot in a station again."

She smiled slightly. "So you'll drive around the dinosaur?"

He rolled his eyes, setting the paper down. "You call it a dinosaur. I call it a classic."

* * *

While they were in the elevator, JJ looked over at him. "Do you have your knee brace?"

"Yes."

"And Tylenol?"

"Yes."

"And you can see just fine?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, _mother_."

She laughed softly, patting his back. "Come on, let's get to work."

They walked into the bullpen, and once JJ was at her desk, Spencer was unsurprised to see a present waiting for him.

"Let me guess, Garcia?"

Emily shook her head. "Guess again."

He raised an eyebrow, sitting down and setting his bag on the floor. He opened up the box and was intrigued when he saw a pair of boxing gloves waiting for him.

"First lesson's Saturday," Derek said, sitting down at his own desk.

"…You do realize I have limited mobility right now?" he asked, motioning toward his shoulder.

"I can train you one handed."

He set the box under his desk. "True to your word."

Derek smirked. "Good to have you back, Pretty Boy."

* * *

After the work day started, Spencer immediately buried himself in his work, making up for lost time.

Emily glanced over at Derek. "He's going to make the rest of us look bad."

"…So, you're complaining that everything's going back to normal?"

She smirked, shaking her head and looking down at her case file.

John walked up beside Spencer, clearing his throat. "Agent Reid, could I talk to you for a moment?"

Spencer turned around to face him. "…Yes, sir." He stood up, bracing himself on his desk.

Emily eyed Derek, whose attention was also off his work.

"I'd just like to take this opportunity to apologize for your suspension." He set Spencer's badge and gun on his desk, before holding out his hand.

Spencer took it, shaking. "It's no problem, sir. It's good to be back."

He gave Spencer a nod, before shaking his hand one last time and turning back to his office.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "A personal apology from the director? Strauss really messed up, didn't she?"

"Something like that," Spencer said, putting his ID into his pocket and sitting down again.

* * *

The week at the BAU had been uneventful, and before Spencer knew it, it was time for his training session with Derek. He put on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, before grabbing the box and walking out of JJ's house, closing the door behind him and getting into Derek's car.

"Is a training session while I still have an injured shoulder really necessary?"

Derek put the car into drive as Spencer pulled on his seatbelt. "You can fight with one fist, and something tells me you won't be in that sling much longer."

"Let's hope not anyway."

Derek pulled up to the gym, parking. "Since it's so early, we probably have the place to ourselves, so you don't need to worry about appearances or making yourself look like a fool."

"Good, because I'm definitely going to." He got out, following Derek inside.

He set his bag down beside a punching bag and turned to Spencer. "Make a fist."

"…Excuse me?"

"Step one to a good punch? Knowing how to make a fist."

"How does a fist help with a boxing glove?"

Derek shook his head. "Because if you're ever going to fight someone, you're not going to have the gloves handy. Those are for when you're working on this," he said, pointing to the bag. "Now, make a fist."

Spencer set his own bag down, holding up his right hand and making a fist.

Derek looked at him. "…Are you trying to break your thumb?"

"What? How am I doing it wrong?"

He made a fist with his own hand, holding it out. "Squeeze your knuckles together."

Spencer did as he was told, showing him.

"Don't have too much tension, or you'll hurt yourself."

He sighed, shaking his hand and making a fist again, showing him.

"Perfect. Now hit me."

He raised an eyebrow. "_What_?"

"You heard me. I want you to hit me."

"Derek, that's completely barbaric. I'm not going to punch my instructor."

"How do you know you're punching and making the fist right if you don't practice?"

He groaned. "You're already a pain in my ass, and it's _not_ the fact that it's early on a Saturday."

Derek smirked. "Good, it's ammunition. Now hit me."

Spencer rolled his eyes, before reaching out, attempting to punch Derek. He was surprised to see Derek holding up his arm, blocking the shot. "I thought you told me to hit you!"

"Making a fist is lesson number one. Lesson number two is knowing how to avoid a hit."

"…And just how many lessons are there?"

"Enough to take up plenty of Saturdays."

* * *

A while later, Derek stood in front of him. "Now, I'm going to teach you an Uppercut."

Spencer looked at him, confused. "There are punches with different _names_?"

"You bet. And you're not leaving this gym until you can do it."

Spencer shook his head. "Fine, show me."

"First off, take the sling off."

Without complaining, Spencer pulled it over his head, throwing it down. "If I end up in that thing any longer than I have to be, it's on you."

"Fine by me." Derek held his fists in front of his face. "Mimic me. Bend your knees, chin down."

Spencer looked at his position. "You know, I read about boxing before, and-"

"And all the reading in the world isn't going to teach you how to fight. Now mimic me."

He eyed Derek before mimicking his position.

"Now, twist your left side to get momentum, and go with the right arm. Not too low, and not too high."

"Derek, I swear if Garcia gets the video footage of this-"

"This is why we're not at my gym. Now, do it."

Spencer did as he was told, before turning back to Derek.

"And really quick, hit me in the chest."

He nodded slightly, throwing his fist out and hitting Derek in the chest, which caused him to stumble. He gasped. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

Derek shook his head, regaining his balance. "And _that's_ how you throw a punch."

Spencer looked proud of himself, smiling. "Seriously?"

"You could use a little work on the follow-through, but keep that up and you'll be done with this training in no time."

* * *

After a few hours, Derek drove him back to JJ's.

"Hey, Derek?"

He turned to face Spencer as he was stopped at a red light. "What's up, kid?"

"…Thanks for sacrificing your Saturday mornings to teach me how to fight. We all know that I can stand up for myself on an intellectual level, but it feels good to do it on a physical one as well."

Derek smirked. "No problem, kid. I'll know the lessons paid off when I see you take down an unsub."

His eyes widened. "When I _what_?"

Derek smiled as he drove, parking the car in front of JJ's house. "You'll do it before you know it, believe me."

"Well, I appreciate it." He put the sling back on. "…and I'm _really_ going to appreciate putting some ice on my shoulder when I get in."

"You're not going to rat me out to mommy that I had you out of that, are you?"

He shook his head. "Considering I told _mommy_ that we were just going running so I could exercise my knee? I'm not saying a word, and you're not either."

"Sounds good. See you Monday, Pretty Boy."

He gave Derek a nod, before grabbing his bag and walking inside.


	13. Three Months Later

_Three Months Later_

Spencer's shoulder had healed up in a few weeks, and his injuries were a distant memory. He had finally found an apartment that was close to work and had a place for him to park his car, which gave him the opportunity to give JJ her guest room back. His training sessions with Derek were completed a few weeks ago, and he was finally able to fight on his own, without Derek needing to correct him every few punches. He was also back to working cases with the team, back in the field since recovering from his injuries.

They were currently on a case in Delaware, in the police station trying to find the unsub.

Garcia's voice chimed on speakerphone. "I've found him!"

"_Where_, Garcia?" Hotch asked.

"His address is currently on its way to you and should arrive… now. Also tacked on is his work address, which is also an option, so you guys are gonna have to split."

Hotch nodded. "Thanks, Garcia." He hung up, turning to the team. "Morgan and Reid, I want you to take the home address. Prentiss and Dave, come with me to the work address."

They all agreed, splitting up. Spencer followed Derek into one of the SUVs, buckling himself in the front seat.

"When we get there, I'll take the front, while you take the back."

"…You want us to split up?"

"I know you have it in you to fight if need be, kid. Get out of your head and keep your focus on finding this guy. Can you do that?"

He nodded slightly as Derek drove.

"And you just have to remember that you're not alone. You're going to have several officers as back-up."

He swallowed, nodding again and watching out the window.

When they pulled up to the house, Spencer watched as the police cars pulled up and got out, tightening his Kevlar vest. Derek got out, taking out his gun. He took out his own and, after giving Derek a nod, ran into the backyard. He heard Derek kick down the front door and start running, and had a feeling the unsub would either burst through the back door or climb through the window. He saw someone jump out the window and start running. He shook his head, wrapping his arm around the man and swinging around, pulling him to the ground and holding him down. He held the hands down, and Derek ran out, eyebrow raised.

Spencer put out his hand. "Cuffs."

Derek unhooked his cuffs, locking them on the unsub's wrists and pulling him up, pushing him toward an officer.

Derek looked at him, impressed. "Did you do this by yourself?"

He nodded, attempting to brush the dirt off his knees.

"You're full of surprises these days, aren't you?"

"…I guess so."

* * *

After the flight landed, Hotch gave the team permission to go home and get some rest. Since he'd gotten a ride from JJ on the way in, he needed to get a ride home to avoid taking the subway. He didn't want to take away from JJ's time with Henry, so he turned to Derek.

"Would you mind? My apartment isn't too far from the airstrip."

Derek shook his head. "No trouble at all."

Spencer shouldered his bag, following him to the car.

"That was a pretty impressive takedown, though to be honest, you should've given him an uppercut."

He laughed softly. "If he'd swung at me, trust me, I would've. I was ready for it too, so I was slightly disappointed. Maybe next time."

"…You want there to _be_ a next time?"

"I didn't spend eight straight Saturdays in a boxing gym to sit back at the station and wait for you all to come back from capturing unsubs."

"Well, Spencer Reid, it seems that you've become a badass."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure that's the first time my name and that word have been used in correlation with each other."

"Keep this up and it's definitely not going to be the last."

* * *

Derek pulled up to Spencer's apartment building, parking. "You sure you're going to be okay?"

He nodded slightly. "I've been moved in here for a few weeks now. In case you forgot, you helped me."

"Do you want me to walk you inside, maybe talk?"

He considered the question – over the last few months, he'd learned to talk to the team whenever he was feeling anxious or upset, and he had to let himself know that he wasn't bothering them when they offered. Finally, he looked at Derek, nodding slightly. "Please?"

Derek put the car in park, following Spencer inside. After walking into the apartment, Spencer put in the security code and locked the door, before walking to his room and locking up the gun.

"What do you want to talk about?" Derek asked, sitting down on the couch.

Spencer sat across from him, wringing his hands. "It's been thirteen weeks since my attack."

Derek raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know – how are you feeling?"

He shrugged slightly. "I'm okay, I guess? I know that all three of them are locked up, and nobody else is going to get hurt, but… I can't help but empathize with victims now when we're on cases. I've been in their shoes, and I know how much it sucks."

"Empathy is a good thing on this job. You can use it and it'll help."

He sighed. "I know that, it's just kind of difficult to deal with, you know?"

"Trust me, I know. The Reaper shoved me through a window and left a bullet right next to me after he knocked me out cold, to show me the message of what he _could've_ done to me. Yeah, I was pissed. Yeah, I wanted him to suffer. But more than anything? I wanted to use that anger. We had other victims and I wanted justice for them."

Spencer nodded, sighing. "I've definitely felt that."

"And now that you know how to fight? You can do some damage to the unsubs if they dare to come near you."

They sat on the couch for a good half hour, talking about the case and anything else that was bothering Spencer. Derek checked the time on his phone and tucked it back in his pocket.

"I should get going. You'll call me if the nightmares come back?"

He nodded, getting up and walking over, unlocking the door for him to leave. "See you tomorrow."

Derek patted his arm, before walking out and closing the door behind him. Spencer locked the door again, walking to his bedroom and changing into his pajamas.

He laid back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling and sighing. A lot had happened to him over the last few months, and he wasn't sure he'd have been able to survive it without the team supporting him every step of the way. Before, he knew they were close. After everything that had occurred, and being able to rely on them for anything and everything he needed, including moving him into his new apartment and taking him in when he was still looking, he knew that his team was definitely a family. He wished it had happened under better circumstances, but it was still refreshing to find out just how much he mattered to them, and if the tables were turned, he'd definitely help one of them, without a second thought.


End file.
